


Accidentally Not In Love

by PumpkinDoodles



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Loki and the accidental spell, The true headcanon for boring Ian, asexual Taserbones, that time Darcy was cursed with a no-libido spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-02-29 11:16:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18777169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Why was Darcy so attracted to Ian, anyway?





	1. Not In The Mood

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing! This idea was totally inspired by @artificial_ink’s amazing Hela and Darcy roommates fic, Paranormal Activity. Go read it! 😁 ❤️👍

Darcy flicked through the dating app’s matches and then sighed. She put the phone down and sighed again. “I’m just not in the mood!” Darcy announced. 

She was never in the mood to date anymore. Ever since her relationship with Ian, she’d lacked interest in sex. She thought it had to do with how bland their relationship was, that Ian had just bored her sex drive to death. 

 

“Why not try meeting someone different?” Jane suggested mildly. She was working on her lab equipment with a wrench. She still liked to tinker. “Ever since you were with Ian, you’ve dated men a lot like him: Charlie the botany guy, Alistair, that Welsh guy…”

“They weren’t all alike!” Darcy said defensively. “Were they?”

“British or oddly passive, reserved, sorta pale, and well, not exciting?” Jane said.

“Ugh, you’re right,” Darcy said. “I just can’t get into dating anyone new, either. Is it me?”

“You shouldn’t feel bad, it’s super common, lots of people follow a pattern of dating people who seem like their ex after a long relationship. My aunt Janice’s therapist warned her about that when she got divorced,” Jane suggested.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “But, Jane, I haven’t had sex since….Easter of last year?”

“That’s specific,” Jane said, looking up.

“The Reese’s eggs were out. I let him have one,” Darcy said. “After the sex, which was mediocre.”

“He who?” Jane asked.

“Oh God, he was so boring, I’ve forgotten! Tom? Terry?” Darcy said. “We went out a few times, but I’d rather watch Dateline.”

“Darce, you’ve seen all the Datelines,” Jane said.

“I know,” Darcy said, sighing. “Sometimes, I feel like something isn’t right with me.”

 

They were still discussing it when Thor returned with lunch—and Loki. Thor was trying to rehabilitate his brother again. Loki seemed to exist purely to get into trouble for Thor to fix. Darcy thought Loki just wanted attention. All the attention. Loki had stolen Darcy’s Captain America Funko Pop, rearranged her notes, and swapped her coffee with decaf (there had nearly been a scrap). Thor had to constantly intervene. Darcy had nicknamed him Prince Snothead, both for his fondness for green and his jelly attitude.

 

“What are you discussing?” Thor asked.

“My sad love life,” Darcy said.

“She just needs to break out of her Ian rut,” Jane said. “Date someone exciting.”

“Ah,” Loki said, “well—I’m afraid that’s my fault.”

“What?” Darcy said.

“Huh?” Jane said.

“Brother,” Thor said, “what did you do?”

“A spell. Just a teensy one,” Loki said. “I was quite angry with you after New York.” He looked balefully at Thor. “I intended to curse Jane—“

“Curse?!” Darcy said in horror.

“And one petite, brunette Midgardian looks much like another,” Loki said.

“Curse?” Darcy repeated, wanting to shake him like a kid’s piggy bank until the truth fell out.

“I made a tiny directional mistake, so—?” He gestured fluidly, an elegant shrug.

“WHAT KIND OF CURSE?” Darcy yelled.

“You will, unfortunately, suffer from a lack of desire and only be attracted to the most boring men, if at all. If I am recalling correctly, I cast it in jail—“ he was saying. 

 

That was when Jane slapped him. Again.

“Loki,” Thor said, as Loki touched the red mark on his cheek, “undo it. Now.”

“I would, I sincerely would,” Loki said apologetically, “but I am afraid the period of reversion has expired. There is a statute of limitations for spell work of approximately five years.” Thor made a noise of disappointment; Jane sucked in a breath and looked ready to smack again.

“Wh-hat?” Darcy stuttered.

“A protection against the space-time continuum,” Loki said.

“I’m  _ stuck  _ with no sex drive?” Darcy said, feeling the floor go a bit wobbly. 

 

The last thing she heard was Jane’s yell.

“Thor, grab her! She’s fainting!” 


	2. All 5 Senses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Couldn't resist adding to this one!

They tried all the things they could think of to reverse Darcy’s libido curse: Asgardian magic, herbal tea, yoga, staring at photographs of a shirtless Captain America for thirty minute increments, even off-label use of Cialis. Nothing worked. Jane researched like a madwoman and even took on a short-term SHIELD job so Darcy would have access to their spell de-programmers, who obviously had Loki experience. But even they didn’t know what to do with Darcy. It was really humiliating to explain, too. She felt as though she was constantly stumbling over the words  _ Loki cast a spell on me and now I have no sex drive. _ The worst thing was that people seemed to imply it was odd that she was just realizing it now. That really stung. She’d been in a long relationship! Everyone said your sex life slowed down some! How should she have known?

 

“I am so mad at you!” Jane barked at Loki after another failed experiment at SHIELD. They were all at home after work. The de-programming team had Darcy watch dirty movies during one of their tests and she’d fallen asleep somewhere in the middle. In her defense, Jane had been working late nights since the move. Darcy was tired. Also, all four of them under the same roof? Not the most pleasant roommate situation. Loki snarked at Thor, Thor shrugged, and Jane got mad on his behalf. That was Jane lately: she was pissed as hell on Darcy’s behalf, too.

“It’s not as if I intended for this to happen. I have apologized,” Loki said. He flicked some lint off his black jacket. “I have apologized many times,” he repeated, sounding bored.

“Well, guess what she can’t do many times,” Jane said hotly. They started to bicker. 

“I can’t listen to this conversation many more times,” Darcy whispered to Thor. He pulled a face, nodding. The bickering escalated into bitter shouting and Jane slapped Loki again. Loki magicked out his knives and they proceeded to verbally threaten each other with stabbings, portals, and other painful means of death. Across the room, Darcy sighed, got up, and went into the kitchen. Eventually. Thor held Loki up and shook him, but Loki just transformed himself into a teddy bear. Thor stopped shaking. He loved teddy bears too much to shake them. “That is not cute,” Jane said to the Loki bear in its little green and gold bowtie, as Thor patted it. 

“Tis very cute,” Thor said. The bear’s stitched on smile widened a fraction.

“You’re still in trouble,” Jane grumbled. She looked mournfully at Darcy listening to her music in the eat-in kitchen. “Darcy?” she called. “Do you want to do something special this weekend?”

“Nope,” Darcy said glumly. She was coming to terms with the idea that her libido might be permanently out of whack. “Go without me, please, I want to sulk alone in sulky fashion,” she explained. 

“Are you sure?” Jane asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“But we are having steak,” Thor said. “Do you not want the steaks of Brazil?” He glared at the bear and it seemed to shrink a tad.

“No, thanks, pal,” Darcy said. Thor, Jane, and the Loki bear went to a Brazilian steakhouse without her. Darcy sat alone and looked around at the apartment. “Welp,” she said out loud. “What am I going to do with my free time if there’s no sex in it?” She’d assumed there might be, one day. When she met the right person. It was rough to contemplate the idea that there was no right person, no external fix that was going to go  _ plop _ and land in her lap and magically make her feel excited again. 

 

Darcy decided to see a therapist. She had to see someone from SHIELD to get clearance to talk about what really happened to her, but it was worth it. The therapist confessed that sexual issues were fairly new therapy topics for her, professionally-speaking, but gave Darcy a five-senses anti-anxiety exercise for her sadness spirals. Darcy was supposed to catalog three things for each of her senses. Three things she could hear, three that she could feel, and ones she could see, smell, and taste in any environment. Darcy started doing that all the time. First, she did it because she was upset and needed a distraction, but she found that it helped her in other ways. It turned out that she could still enjoy everything else--at least Loki’s spells were specific--so she developed an array of odd hobbies to ground her and keep her from being sad about her lack of attraction. She jotted down things that made her feel engaged and happy. The more she added to the list, the greater the array of things that made her feel tiny flickers of delight. Everywhere she went, she tried to engage her senses: lingering in coffee shops to drink her lattes, she would pause, intentionally holding the cup to feel the warmth in her hands or sit for a minute to listen to the burr grinders and smell the coffee brewing. If she bought a candy bar from a vending machine, she waited to hear the clang as the machine returned her change. When she dragged Jane outdoors for a walk, she stopped to pet all the dogs and sat for awhile along a trail, watching the sunlight filter down through the canopy of trees. “Darce,” Jane said, “whatcha doing?”

“Look,” Darcy said, pulling Jane over and pointing. “Do you ever notice stuff like how the light slants there and makes those patterns?”

“Not really,” Jane admitted. “That is pretty.”

 

Mostly, she felt okay. A little floaty, like an observer instead of a participant, sometimes, but she got a lot of joy out of random things. Her recipe for balsamic bruschetta. An amazonite bead bracelet she bought so she could roll the beads around. Baking pecan brownies. Violet-colored gel pens. China Rain perfume oil. New socks. She did catch someone looking at her oddly when she went around feeling the textures of different yarn in a store, though. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a real mindfulness exercise: https://anxietycanada.com/articles/using-your-senses/


	3. Magical Unicorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos on this one!

Darcy’s SHIELD therapist got permission to give her a referral to someone who specialized in sexual dysfunction and had been called in a sex pollen case, so she started having weekly appointments in another office. Her new therapist, Sondra, was really nice. “You seem very calm about all of this,” she said to Darcy, when Darcy had gone through her whole _an Asgardian Put On A Spell On My Ladybusiness_ spiel.

“Meh,” Darcy said, shrugging. “It’s not like being angry will help me, you know?”

“You don’t feel any anger towards Loki?” Sondra asked.

“No,” Darcy said. But that started her thinking. Should she feel pissed off? Why didn’t she feel really pissed? This was her life. What if she never emotionally or sexually connected with someone again, stayed single, and missed out on a good relationship? “Wait,” she said, “maybe I can imagine scenarios where I should be mad?” she said out loud.

“Like what?” Sondra said.

“What if I just stay like this forever and nothing ever changes and I never get that butterflies feeling again? The excited to see someone feeling?” Darcy said. “And he had years to fix this. Years! He could have fixed it, if he wasn’t such a freaking coward about taking personal responsibility!”

Sondra nodded. Darcy ranted until their session was over and was so cranky that she actually ran into the next patient as she left. “Shit,” Darcy said. “I’m sorry.” She’d collided with his chest. ”I’m so sor---” she said, as she looked up.

“It’s fine,” the heavily-scarred man looking down at her said. The entirety of his face was covered in burns. His voice was calm, even mirthful. “Everybody storms out of their therapist’s, huh?”

“Sure,” Darcy said, swallowing. She moved aside. “Sorry,” she repeated.

“I’m all right,” he said. She could have sworn he grinned at her.

 

“I’m really mad now, Jane, the more I think about it, the more pissed I get,” Darcy said. She’d gone back to work after her appointment.

“Finally!” Jane said. “I’ve been worried that it was a sign of grief or depression that you weren’t more angry. Can we go kick Loki in the ribs together? Because I have been furious this whole freaking time. And yesterday, I swear I saw him curse Cap’s shield to make it slippery, which means he _hasn't stopped doing things to hurt people-- ”_

“I dunno, I’d love to kick him a few times, but  what if he stabs us? I don’t have Thor’s recovery skills,” Darcy said.

“He is such a--an overgrown child!” Jane fumed. "So selfish!"

“I--I just started to wonder, what if this means I’ll be alone, you know?” Darcy said, her mind a million miles from Loki’s childishness. Jane immediately looked concerned.

“You won’t be alone, I’ll be there,” Jane said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. Jane patted her back. Then Darcy had a thought. “But you hate cuddles and you have those bony elbows of death!”

“Do you still want cuddles?” Jane asked. “You’ve never said that?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I kinda do. That’s what I miss most about Ian. The only thing I miss, really.” She cupped her chin in her hand. “Will I ever get cuddles if I never want sex again? I’ve never dated anybody who didn’t think cuddles were the precursor to sex.”

“Thor would totally cuddle you in a sex-free way,” Jane said.

“But he’s gone a lot,” Darcy mused, “and he sleeps with you.”

“Maybe Tony could build you a cuddle bot?” Jane said.

“Or I could get a body pillow for at night,” Darcy said, scrunching her nose.

 

So, she did that, too: she got a body pillow and more blankets for her bed, so she could feel embraced at night. Jane bought her an adorable pillow in the shape of a loaf of bread--Darcy loved bread--and started offering to learn to knit a Loki doll to stick needles in, too. “I don’t think I’d actually be good at knitting, I just like to look at the yarn,” Darcy said, vetoing that idea.

“We could still stab him with the needles,” Jane said fiercely.

“Sometimes, I think the reason Thor loves you is because you were really meant to fight somebody,” Darcy mused. “You like fighting.”

“Why should I run?” Jane said.

“I always run,” Darcy said.

“But you got those puppies,” Jane pointed out.

“Take the puppy and run,” Darcy said. “I wish I could be that Darcy again.”

“You pinched Fandral, didn’t you?” Jane said.

“I had fun,” Darcy said. “Now that I’ve lost fun, I really, really miss it.”

“I bet Fandral does, too.”

 

Darcy did start hitting Thor up for random hugs, though. It was one afternoon when she’d gone down to the gym floor to deliver Thor’s snacks and gotten a very sweet, squeezy hug when she realized that someone else was getting on the elevator with her. The scarred man from her therapist’s office. “Hi,” he said politely, as if he didn’t know her. But his eyes showed recognition..

“Hi,” Darcy said, realizing he was wearing SHIELD tactical gear. He worked here? And he’d been referred to her therapist? The outside therapist for her _special_ issue? Darcy’s brain started to spin a little. She looked at the guy. “Ummm,” Darcy began, thinking _shit shit shit. Has Loki cursed this guy, too?_

“Yeah?” he said. “Do I have something on my face?” he joked wryly, gesturing to the scars.

“No, no, Loki,” Darcy said. “Have you been around Loki?” He looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“Some,” he said. Darcy reached over and hit stop on the elevator button.

“It’s possible he could have cursed you,” she said.

“This,” the man told her, “my burns, they’re from the Battle of Triskelion, sweetheart, not anyone from Asgard.”

“No,” Darcy said, feeling exceptionally awkward, “that’s not what I mean.” She tried to say it slowly. “If you’re experiencing some--some lack of desire or no libido? He could’ve cursed you, just like he did me. But if it happened recently, we can still fix it. You’ve got time to get your sex drive back!”

“Excuse me?” the man said, staring openly now.

“You’ve got time to reverse it. I’m all out of time, but I won’t let him do this shit to anyone else,” Darcy said. To her surprise, the scarred man started to laugh.

“You thought I was seeing the sex therapist ‘cause Thor’s brother cursed me?” he said.

“Well, yeah,” Darcy said, “that’s why I’m--I’m seeing her.” He sighed and shook his head.

“Nope,” he said, “not my problem, sweetheart.”

“You’re--you’re sure?” she said.

“Absolutely,” the man said. “No lack of interest.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, mortified. She’d just outed herself as a no sex-drive person to a complete stranger? And she’d asked him a bunch of really inappropriate questions, too. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ask you any personal questions,” Darcy said.

“I’ll try not to report you to HR for harassment,” he said, restarting the elevator. She thought he was joking. She hoped he was joking. She was standing there, trying not to die of embarrassment, when he looked at her curiously. “So,” he said, “no sex drive whatsoever?”

“None,” Darcy said, swallowing.

“That’s a damn shame, sweetheart,” he said, raking his eyes over her. “They ought bring that man up on federal charges,” he said as he stepped off the elevator and left her standing there, baffled.

 

When she got back to the lab, she looked at Jane. “Well, I think that’s my humiliation quota for the whole week,” she said.

“What happened?” Jane said.

“I just embarrassed myself because I saw another employee at my therapist’s and then I assumed that maybe they’d been cursed by Loki, but didn’t realize it and so I swooped in and tried to puppy rescue them--” Darcy explained.

“Whoops,” Jane said.

“I just wanted to make sure this didn’t happen to somebody else,” Darcy said, sighing. “Now I’m a weirdo who asks strange men questions about their libido in elevators. HR is totally gonna write me up.”  

 

***

Jane, ever in research mode, started sending Darcy articles about the sexuality spectrum and asexuality. She had a friend who ran the LGBTQIA center at Culver.  “Isn’t that interesting?” Jane said. “You could potentially meet someone with your interest in romance who wouldn’t pressure you for sex.”

“Jane, that person sounds like a magical unicorn,” Darcy said skeptically. “Who wants to go on romantic dates not followed by sex? Not any man I’ve ever met.”

“You can’t think like that! Look at Thor. Thor is very into dating for dating,” Jane said. “Remember how excited he was when we told him about aquariums? And fairs?”

“He is a magical unicorn. Literally. He came from the sky. Also, you’re at it like rabbits,” Darcy said. Jane frowned and looked sad.

“Sorry,” she said.

“But I don’t think Thor would force you into sex you didn’t want or leave you,” Darcy said. “He _would_ happily go on dates with no promise of sex, ever. So, yes, one man exists who would take a lady to an aquarium knowing he’d never get sex out of it. One dude from outer space.” She dissolved into giggles. “In alllllllll the Nine Realms, there can be only one!” she said dramatically.

“Darce,” Jane said, sighing, “I’m trying to tell you that you could find somebody. We know the code now, okay?” She handed Darcy another piece of paper, still warm and ink-scented from the printer.

“The code?” Darcy said.

“The terminology, the existing field of study for your project,” Jane said. “You can’t start any project without keywords and knowing where you fit in the literature.”

“Fine, Doctor Foster, I’m looking for an asexual romantic boyfriend,” Darcy, “who I find fun to be around, shares my interests, and won’t pressure me for sex. Also known as a magical unicorn.”    

“You could go to a meeting?” Jane offered, pointing to the listing she’d just printed out. There was an in-person meetup for asexuals at a local coffee shop in two weeks.

“Board games?” Darcy said, scanning the page. “Okay, maybe I could handle this.”

 

It was wildly awkward to go somewhere and introduce yourself to strangers who would then know things about your sex life. Even if it was just that your sex life was nonexistent. Like, boob sweat levels of awkward. Darcy had to talk herself into going in on the sidewalk outside the coffeeshop. But it was just four very nice people playing Monopoly. Darcy had a good time--she really liked Shelley, a friendly vet tech with purple streaks in her hair--but she didn’t quite fit here, either. Shelley said something to her about what a relief it was to find out about the community and Darcy felt a pang of guilt. Was she crashing someone else’s party? “Well, um, can I confess something to you? I feel kinda like a party crasher right now and I hope you don’t hate me. I’m not, maybe, typically asexual,” she said doubtfully. “I, uh, lost my libido because of a really rare medical condition,” she said. This was the script she and Sondra had developed for social situations. “So, I’m kind of struggling with some residual anger at my, uh, medical condition.” She sighed. “And there are no support groups, it’s such a weird, rare thing. I can remember what it was like to have a sex drive, but I’ll never have, um, _wants_ again, they tell me. As far as that goes, there’s zilch, nada, nothing. But I still want to, like, go on dates and I’m trying to figure out where I belong now?” she said.

“Okay,” Shelley said, “that freaking sucks. I think you deserve a cake pop for being that vulnerable.”

“Thank you for being so nice,” Darcy said, flooded with relief. They were standing in the line for pastries when Shelley spoke again.

“Do you have a therapist?” Shelley asked. Darcy nodded. “I’m seeing someone for my issues with my relatives who keep asking when I’m going to settle down,” Shelley said, miming an obnoxious accent. “I haven’t told them. They wouldn’t get it at all. But one of the things my therapist recommended was doing stuff to channel my agitation and stress that are more physical.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Like what?”

“Ummm, I started with just whacking my pillows with a Nerf bat, but now I do kickboxing classes and I love it,” Shelley said.

“Kickboxing,” Darcy said, imagining herself falling over. Repeatedly.

“And it really helped me develop my upper body strength, too. I totally lifted a Newfoundland today and everyone was like, _ooooh, Shelley.”_

“That’s impressive, Newfies are huge,” Darcy said.

“But so sweet,” Shelley said, sighing.

 

When she got back to the apartment, Jane asked how everything went. “Um, it was actually fun. Everyone was very nice to me,” she told Jane. “Not judgy at all.”

“Good,” Jane said, squinting at her laptop. “I don’t need to beat anybody up.”

“If I wanted to take kickboxing or something like that, would you do it with me?” Darcy asked.

“Absolutely,” Jane said. “So, there weren’t any cute guys you might be interested in?”

“Alas, no, just some very sweet people who don’t want anyone’s dick pics,” Darcy said, wiggling out of her coat. Maybe exercise would help her stay balanced when she got her sleeve stuck she thought, wobbling and then catching herself.

“Isn’t that all of us?” Jane said, still typing.

“In that sense, yeah,” she said, snorting. “I’m going to make coffee. Want some?”

“Always,” Jane said.

“Where are the magical unicorn and his irritating brother?” she asked.

“At a beer garden,” Jane said.

 

Darcy did start making so many magical unicorn jokes that Jane bought her a unicorn mug with a tail for a handle and a unicorn phone case with glitter on the back. Whenever she felt irritated or bored, Darcy would turn the phone around and watch the little glitter hearts and stars float in the gel. She was playing with her phone one day in Sondra’s waiting area when her phone dinged. Jane had signed them both up for a kickboxing basics seminar as part of SHIELD’s health insurance plan. It would be in-house, so she wouldn’t even have to drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case you can't tell, I have NO IDEA what I'm doing in this story plot-wise. It has no plot. I'm just having Darcy try to figure stuff out in this haphazard way and maybe do a little positive repping for asexuality/different kinds of identities without sounding like a brochure. Those are my goals at the moment.
> 
>  
> 
> Shameless plug for fun things--and because I like the idea of Jane trying to cheer Darcy up with pillows--bread shaped pillows EXIST:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  


	4. Kickboxing for One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!!

The first kickboxing class was mostly a success, in that Darcy only fell three times. She thought her new instructor looked slightly alarmed. “Don’t worry,” Jane told the teacher at the end of class as Darcy went _plop_ on the final kick, “this is really good for Darcy.”

“That right?” the instructor said. He was Australian, a tall, STRIKE-level agent named Jack Rollins. He’d been a triple agent during the whole HYDRA thing, one of their classmates had whispered, seeming awestruck.

“I’m like a one-winged bird, really,” Darcy said, clamoring up off the plastic mat. “I tend to wobble and list, Jack.” Jack laughed at her joke and that made her feel a smidge better.

“She’s a rehabilitation facility penguin,” Jane supplied, citing one of their old jokes about Darcy’s klutzy tendencies. Jane was totally crushing on cute Jack, Darcy had realized, when she saw Jane do big eyes at his arm muscles during the class.

“I’m the penguin, Jane is a crazy raccoon,” Darcy said.

“A crazy raccoon?” Jack said, looking at Jane. “Her?”

“Totally,” Darcy said.

“She says that because we had a garbage raccoon in Puente Antiguo--” Jane said.

“We staked out the trash cans,” Darcy said.

“I was going to fire over the raccoon’s head with a Nerf gun Darcy bought,” Jane said. “Just to scare off the raccoon.”

“Yeah?” Jack said.

“Didn’t work,” Darcy said, giggling at the memory.

“What happened?” Jack said.

“I crack open one of the sliding doors to fire, get off one rubber bullet thingy in the general direction of the trash--” Jane said.

“As one does,” Darcy said dryly.

“And the raccoon reached over grabbed the end of my gun!” Jane said, laughing.

“They have little tiny people hands, it’s freaky,” Darcy said. “She started to scream and was scrambling around--”

“I thought it might be rabid,” Jane said.

“It was not rabid, it just had analytical skills that were very impressive,” Darcy explained. Behind her, she heard a chuckle. Darcy turned. The scarred agent from the elevator was standing near the doorway, eating an apple.

“Hey, no eating in the gym, mate,” Jack said. The other guy shook his head and grinned. He tossed his core in the nearby trash can.

“Finish your story,” he said, walking over to the group of them. He looked at her. “Apple?” he said, offering one to Darcy from the pocket of his tactical pants. Darcy realized he’d never reported her to HR and smiled in relief.

“Um, yeah, thanks,” she said, taking the apple.

“So, what happened with the raccoon?” he asked, turning his head towards Jane.

“I sort of lost my nerve,” Jane admitted, looking between him and Jack.

“She is very rightly afraid of rabies, a serious, fatal illness,” Darcy said. “Which means she climbed on her desk and refused to get down.” Jack roared with laughter.

“Darcy very calmly shut the door,” Jane said.

“I let the raccoon have the Nerf gun,” Darcy said.

“We never saw it again,” Jane said.

“Are you telling me there’s a raccoon with a gun running around Puente Antiguo?” the guy who’d given her the apple asked.

“Yes, but technically, he didn’t have any more rubber ammunition, so no harm, no foul,” Darcy said.  

“Do you remember those weird reports about that talking raccoon---” Jack said to the other man.

“Oh, no, this is a different raccoon,” Jane said. “We’ve meet Rocket and Groot.”

“Oh, yeah?” the other guy said. “Well, you’ve got one on me. I’ve wanted to hear about the raccoon since Romanoff said he almost made off with Barnes’ arm during that thing in space. Brock Rumlow,” he said in greeting, giving Jane a friendly gesture.

“Jane Foster.”

“Technically, he’s my boss,” Jack said.

“For about a week and then Jack starts running Bravo,” Rumlow said, offering a scarred hand to Darcy. She took it, and a little afraid he’d think she’d hesitated, she cupped his hand with both of hers, still holding the apple. There was moment of strange tension: Darcy was holding onto his hand, he’d tilted  his head as if she’d surprised him, and Jack had paused in the middle of an anecdote about a space mission before going on smoothly.

 

The four of them were leaving the gym when Rumlow lagged back, looked at Jane and Jack chatting happily ahead of them, and whispered to Darcy. “Is Thor going to hit Jack with the hammer?” he asked.

“Nah,” Darcy said. “She’s allowed to have crushes, he’s allowed to have crushes. Granted, most of hers are elderly scientists, but Thor totally has a thing for Captain Marvel, Valkyrie, and Xena, Warrior Princess.”

“You realize that last one is fictional, yeah?” he asked.

“We don’t tell Thor,” Darcy said.

“No?” Rumlow said.

“We never tell Thor,” Darcy said. “He thinks she lives in Greece.” He looked at her sideways, grinning, and Darcy decided to be brave. “Um, uh, thanks for not, like, reporting me to HR for being an elevator weirdo and for this very nice apple?” she said nervously. “Or, uh, telling anyone my libido is AWOL.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, looking wry. He half glanced at her again as they walked. “I’m very sensitive and considerate like that.”

“You are,” Darcy said.

“Also, I’d totally be outing myself as a guy who also needs a sex therapist,” he said, scrunching his nose. “But I’m, you know, totally indifferent to anything like that.”

“Well, I mean, when you need the therapist because you’re so STRIKE that your partners literally expire on the spot, reputation is probably a non-issue,” Darcy joked, then wondered, _where the hell did that come from?_ The words were out of her mouth before she realized she’d done it and she blushed a little in embarrassment. “Oh God, I did a weird, socially inappropriate thing again,” she grumbled, mock-slapping her forehead.

“No, no,” he said. “That’s a good line. I might need to use that when somebody asks why I’m single.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, relieved he wasn’t offended.

“Probably won’t work at Christmas, though,” he said. “Nah.” He shook his head.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Darcy said.

“What?” he asked.

“I just realized that’s my life now, dodging family questions at major holidays if I never date again,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he said. They reached the elevator and followed Jack and Jane on board.

“Hey, would you guys like to come to this party we’re having this weekend?” Jane asked. “Very chill, Thor is barbequing.”

“There will be lots of beer,” Darcy said. “And someone will probably challenge you to a wrestling match.”

“What?” Jack said.

“Thor does that, it’s an Asgardian party thing,” Jane explained.

 

 

The barbeque was a typically raucous one. Most of it was outdoors in the backyard, however, a rule she and Jane had instituted after their first Thor and the Warriors Three party. Standing on their porch, Darcy spotted Loki playing a game of darts with his knives alongside a bunch of SHIELD agents. Jane was chatting with someone from R&D, Thor was manning his huge grill, and Bruce Banner--in town for a conference--was demonstrating the chemistry principles behind layered drinks for Natasha Romanoff. “Are--are they actually flirting?” Maria Hill said at Darcy’s elbow.

“She is,” Darcy said. “I have no idea what he’s doing?”

“I’ve seen everything,” Maria said.

“I definitely feel like I have,” Darcy said with a giggle.

“I’ve got to find Sharon, she needs to see this,” Maria said.

“Over there with Rollins,” Darcy said, pointing to a corner of the yard.

“Thanks,” Maria said.

“No prob,” Darcy said. She climbed up on the edge of the porch railing and sipped her drink slowly. She really wasn’t in the mood to socialize, so she’d volunteered to go around with Thor and charm the neighbors into not calling the police on them. Well, Thor had charmed them; Darcy had contributed baked goods as bribery. Now she was eating one of her own chocolate chip cookies and in charge of the music playlist. She was going to man the speaker until midnight and then go condition her hair or something. DC humidity was messing her hair up, Darcy thought. She was mid-cookie when Rumlow came onto the porch. “Hey,” she said in a mumble.

“You’re all up here by yourself?” he said. She swallowed the bit of cookie awkwardly.

“I have a cookie stash,” Darcy explained, coughing a little. “Did you want one?”

“Uh, I’m sure they’re great,” he said. “But I don’t eat sweets.”

“Oh, okay, sorry,” she said.

“I just wanted to ask--”

“Yeah?” Darcy said.

“Where’s your bathroom?” he said.

“Oh,” she said, “right through the door, left down the hallway, and it’s on your right.”

“Thanks.”

 

She tried not to jump when the screen door shut behind him with a _thwack._ He came back out, smiled at her, and jogged down to talk to Hill and Rollins. At a quarter to midnight, Darcy decided she’d handled the playlist long enough. She went in, put on her pjs, and crawled into bed. The party was still loud, but she cuddled her bread pillow and tried to talk herself into sleep. It was easier to relax when she did her mindfulness exercise. “I feel clean sheets, Mr. Brioche”--she’d named the pillow--”and my weighted blanket,” she told herself. “And, I see my phone, my alarm clock, and my reflection in the mirror. I smell beer, beer, and more beer. Also, somebody’s smoking out there,” she muttered. The smell of beer and cigarettes was faintly seeping through the cracks in her window. She closed her eyes. Vaguely, she could hear people talking, somebody yelling, laughter.

 

She’d fallen asleep when there was a loud _boom_ that jerked her back into consciousness. “Oh shit,” she said, fumbling for her glasses. It didn’t sound good. She hurried out to the porch. Sprawled out on the yard was a stunned-looking Jack Rollins. “What happened?!” Darcy yelled, doing her best Mom impression, as she walked down to the grass. Rumlow looked up at her from where he was kneeling by Jack. There were three other people peering down in concern.

“There was a tiny head injury--” Loki said.

“I did not mean to do it,” Thor said, looking guilty.

“Thor is jealous and challenged Jack to a wrestling match and then _purposefully_ slammed him,” Jane said, evidently furious. She glared at Thor. “Since when are you like this?” she asked him.

“I’d hazard a guess since this your first crush who is not eighty years old and an eminent scientist, but a rather attractive man,” Loki said. “Very attractive.” On the ground, Jack groaned and blinked.

“Bloody hell, I’m not even straight,” he said.

“How delightful,” Loki told him. “Neither am I.”

“Folks, can we stop with the jealousy and the--the weird flirting until we’ve gotten him some ice?” Rumlow said.

“I been serumed, mate, no worries,” Jack said, standing up. He smiled, then listed a little. Rumlow and Loki carried him into the house as Jane bitched out Thor. Everyone else had left, Darcy realized when she got inside. The clock said 2:43 am. Loki and Rumlow sat Jack down in a chair.

“I’ll get ice,” she told them. She’d filled a ziploc with ice cubes and given it to Rumlow while Loki went out to mediate between Jane and Thor. “Is there anything else you need?” she asked, after she’d brought towels and the first aid kit. Rumlow was squatting down, shining a pen light in Jack’s eyes.

“I don’t think he’s concussed,” Rumlow said, “but it might not--” He stopped for a second; he’d looked up at her, then looked away. “Be a bad idea to take him to SHIELD’s medical clinic. They staff 24/7,” he finished.

“Oh,” Darcy said. She’d just realized that--from his viewpoint at least--her shortish “Check Meowt” kitty nightshirt was giving him an ample view of her thighs. Maybe even her cotton underwear. “I’ll get them to take you guys,” she said, backing out of the kitchen. No need to give him a free view of her freaking cellulite, she thought. What a weird night.

 

 

“I can’t believe Thor did that!” Jane was still saying the next morning. “I didn’t know he could even be so petty!” Darcy was putting bread in the toaster.

“He was a little bent out of shape about Richard in London,” she told Jane, pressing the button down.

“You’re right--I’d totally forgotten that! He was all, ‘so, who’s Richard?’ and pretended he wasn’t, though. But he swoons over all those lady wrestlers and you don’t see me getting my panties in a bunch,” Jane said.

“How’s Jack?” Darcy asked.

“He’s going to be okay, thank goodness. Loki stayed with him,” Jane said, eyes bright with curiosity. “I think they’re totally starting a thing, Darce.”

“Well, that’s nice,” Darcy said, getting strawberry jam from the fridge. “Rumlow didn’t say anything about seeing my underwear, did he?” she asked.

“Nope,” Jane said. “Why?”

“He was checking Jack’s pupils and I realized maybe I was flashing him,” Darcy said. “I had a moment of awkward and had to back out of the kitchen so there were no butt cheeks involved.” Jane burst out laughing.

“But you have totally cute butt cheeks,” Jane said. “Like a baby.”

“Hush, I do not,” Darcy said. Her toast popped.

“Your butt is hella cute. I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded. I’ve seen you in a bikini,” Jane said, as she headed to the table with coffee mugs.


	5. A Little Salty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“What if you went out with Mike?” Jane said to Darcy suddenly. It was Thursday and they were working in the lab. A yawning Darcy looked up from her emails.

“Who?” she said.

“He works in R&D and is religious. He doesn’t believe in sex before marriage,” Jane said.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’d be up for sex after marriage,” Darcy said. Jane snorted.

“I’m not saying you have to marry him, but I am suggesting that he’s a control you could try out,” Jane said.

“Like a safety date? Hello, everyone, this is Mike, he’s my safety boyfriend, we’re only dating until he meets a nice Mormon girl or we unmagic my ladyparts and I throw myself at a male stripper?” Darcy said.

“I didn’t say he was Mormon,” Jane said. She was trying not to laugh Darcy’s male stripper joke.

“There’s no better alternative to that, Jane, if he’s older than twenty-four. Either he’s Mormon, or he’s some kind of weird fundamentalist from Alabama who looked forty-five at eighteen. At least the Mormon guys, like, look reasonably presentable and generally have better social skills from all the missionary work,” Darcy said.

“Missionary work!” Jane said, totally losing it.

“I’m so glad that me getting your curse is working out so well for you,” Darcy said dryly.

“You--you’re very salty today,” Jane said, between giggles.

“I am,” Darcy said. “I’m in a mood. I don’t know why. I’m salty like movie theater popcorn.”

“You’ve been grumpy all week,” Jane said. “Is it Loki and Jack?”

“What?” Darcy said. “Why would it be that? I think it’s just Mondays.”

“A, it’s Thursday. B, Because Loki is getting to have a romance with a cute, sweet guy and it’s so unfair,” Jane said. “You should get Jack, not him.”

“Jack is gay, Jane.”

“All the more reason he’d be your perfect cuddle buddy,” Jane said. “Loki should really have to loan you his boyfriend for major events and PMS week, it’s only fair.”

“You are ridiculous,” Darcy said, but she grinned in spite of herself. The mental image of Loki being forced to timeshare the adorable Jack as a form of penance was hilarious.

“Okay, I’m telling him,” Jane said. “Jack can go with us to dinner tonight.”

“Um, I think there is the small matter of Jack’s consent,” Darcy pointed out.

“He’s _Australian,_ he’d totally go out with you platonically,” Jane said. “They’re very chill people.”

“Getting really drunk with a bunch of academics after that conference in Sydney does not make you the Australian whisperer,” Darcy told her.

“Excuse me, I once got a fan letter from Hugh Jackman’s nephew, they love me there,” Jane said.

“I thought they were all teasing you about your beer last name and the Outback Steakhouse,” Darcy said.

“That was Tony,” Jane said. “It’s some elaborate joke he has with Rhodey about Thor just secretly pretending to be from space and really being from Australia.”

“Where are you going?” Darcy said.

“To find Jack,” Jane said.

“Halp,” Darcy muttered, sipping her coffee. She was fairly sure that Jack was a more chill dinner companion than someone who was seriously into religion, though, so she didn’t stop Jane.

  


“I need you to take out Darcy,” Jane announced, when she’d walked into Jack’s office. He and Brock were working on a combined Alpha-Bravo tactical strategy for headquarters emergencies.

“Pardon?” Jack said.

“She needs dating practice from someone who won’t pressure her into sex,” Jane explained. “She needs a date.”

“I, uh,” Jack began.

“She’s dating?” Brock said. “I didn’t know she was dating in, uh, her condition?”

“She told you? Yeah, she still wants to date. She’s a romantic asexual, so she still wants to do other stuff, like dates and cuddling and going to the movies--”

“I don’t follow,” Jack said.

“Your new boyfriend cursed her with a no libido spell,” Brock said wryly.

“He did what?” Jack said, horrified.

“He got us mixed up, he was aiming for me to punish Thor, but got Darcy instead, so she has zero sex drive,” Jane said. Jack’s face had gone all funny.

“You can’t undo it?” Jack said.

“No, he didn’t tell us in time,” Jane said. “That’s sort of why we’re here--I was trying to get her help.”

“That’s horrible,” Jack said.

“When should I pick her up?” Brock said.

“I’m dating someone who does that to people?” Jack said.

“Have you forgotten New York?” Brock said.

“But I thought he was reformed?” Jack said. Jane shrugged.

“Semi-reformed,” Jane said. “I wouldn’t tempt him with jewels or crowns, though.”

 

When Jane left, Jack left an upset message for Loki and then looked at Brock. “You’re dating a woman who doesn’t have sex? You?”

“What, I can’t?” Brock said.

“Well, I mean--” Jack said.

“I’m doing a favor for a nice person who is pleasant to be around,” Brock said.

“Okay,” Jack said.

“Yeah,” Brock said.

“I didn’t think you even did any dating, not really,” Jack said.

“You also thought your boyfriend was reformed. I’m getting those blueprints from Hernandez,” Brock said, moving to the doorway.

“Can you have conversation on a date that’s more than just a bloody text that says, _you up?”_ Jack called.

 

Darcy was hitting the delete key on an email when Jane came bouncing into the lab. “You’ve got a date!” Jane said.

“Jack said yes?” Darcy said, surprised. “You’re really the Australian whisperer?”

“Well, actually, Brock said yes, Jack is mostly appalled at Lo--”

“Brock?” Darcy said, voice squeaky.

“Yeah,” Jane said. “Does that bother you? I thought you got along okay? He said you told him about your issues--”

“I’m not bothered, it’s fine,” Darcy said.

“You don’t look fine,” Jane said, eyebrows raised. “Do you like Brock or something?”

“No, no, I mean, obviously not, I can’t like anybody, it’s--” Darcy said.

“You can have romantic feelings,” Jane said.

“It’s that he’s kinda cryptic and doesn’t feel as chill as Jack,” Darcy said. “It’s not romantic feelings, it’s just normal nerves.”

“It’s not a crush?” Jane said.

“Nope,” Darcy said.

“But you told him about your libido!” Jane said, pointing. “Ah ha!”

“Why are you ah ha-ing?” Darcy said. She hadn’t specified that Brock was elevator spell-talk guy. That had seemed too gossipy. She didn’t even know what Brock’s issues where. He could be a sex addict. Did they give you sex therapy if you got too deep into HYDRA and developed unusual kinks or something? That could be it, right?

“I’m just saying, you were sharing information with him, he’s single and was once very cute--” Jane listed out.

“How cute?” Darcy said. She actually thought he was attractive now, in a vague way. The way it was nice to look at a painting or a shelf of books. Non-sexually appeal--Jane turned her laptop screen. She’d googled. Darcy made a strangled noise of distress. “Oh God, Jane. Rewind, rewind, I want the Mormon!” Darcy said.

“Why?” Jane said. “He was really hot. I bet it’s difficult for him now, he might enjoy a safe date, too.”

“Mormons are beige, beige guys are safely covered under my curse, I do not know what to do with that smoldery not beige-ness, what if he flirts---is that his SHIELD ID badge photo?” Darcy said.

“Yup,” Jane said.

“Mine looks like I’m at the DMV! I’m slightly blue! How did he look like that?” Darcy said.

“He doesn’t look like that now,” Jane said. Darcy almost said he looked perfectly fine, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t like she needed to encourage Jane’s bizarre crush theories.

  


He actually picked her up for dinner, like it was 1964. “You look nice,” Brock told her, as she got in the car.

“Thanks,” Darcy said awkwardly. “I appreciate you volunteering to take Jack’s place as my lucky date.” Her voice was slightly sarcastic on the last three words. Thor and Jane were ahead of them in traffic. Jack and Loki were actually having some sort of fight at Jack’s, Jane had told her.

“It’s not a problem,” he said.

“Yeah, but I mean--this is awkward and now I’m ruining Jack’s romantic life and mine?” she joked. “Also, I’m sure you could find a real date.”

“This counts as a real date,” he said.

“But, uh, listen, you know I have no sex drive right? I mean, it’s not in question, I’ve been in a study,” Darcy said.

“A study?” he said, sounding curious.

“A SHIELD study. They had me watch porn in the basement. Zilch on the machines like _beeep_ ,” Darcy said. “I fell asleep!”

“Well, that sounds very restful,” he said. “I might be a little jealous.”

“C’mon,” Darcy grumbled. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Sure I do,” he said cryptically.

“It’s actually very depressing,” Darcy said. “I mean, I look at Steve’s ass and _nothing._ It’s not normal to have zero ovarian response to America’s Ass.” He barked out a laugh.

“There are worse things,” he told her, grinning.

“What’s more depressing than that?” she said. “Sexually, I mean?”

“Let me tell you, sweetheart, lots of things,” he said.

“Did they, uh, HYDRA, I mean, make you do weird stuff?” she asked. He tilted his head and looked at her at a red light.

“What kind of weird stuff?” he asked.

“Hitler uniforms, naked old white guys in shiny capes?” Darcy offered.

“No,” he said, grinning. “But they do test you to see if you have any reaction to Cap’s ass. That was considered unacceptably patriotic.”

“You’re messing with me!” Darcy  said.

“You would have passed with flying colors, honey,” he said, smirking.

 

She was totally surprised when he reached over and took her hand in the parking lot outside the restaurant. “This okay?” he asked. “Jane said you were interested in romantic things?”

“Yeah, it’s good,” Darcy said, feeling that weird pang of nervousness again. “I do kind of want normal romantic things, if you don’t mind,” she admitted. He nodded, squeezing her hand.

“Gotcha,” he said, thumb rubbing over her hand. He had a warm touch. She didn’t mind him touching her, she realized. She was just surprised that he _wanted_ to. He was surprisingly affectionate and touchy-feely as they walked inside and were led to a table.

 

Jack and Loki had apparently made up somewhat; they met the four of them at the restaurant. Things were a bit tense between them, Darcy could tell. Jack was mostly talking to Jane and Loki was visibly pouting. The bigger group made it a little easier for Darcy. Everyone seemed to be operating under the principle of giving she and Brock some space. Rumlow was conversational and friendly with everyone, but he paid attention primarily to her. He held her hand, discussed the menu with her, made sure she had enough napkins, even rested his leg against hers. What was he doing? Did he think she was making up the no sex drive thing? Darcy seriously started to believe that he did sometime in the middle of the evening, since he was obviously flirting like mad. He was refilling her wine when Darcy leaned over and whispered in his ear. “What are you doing?” she asked. He was totally sober, too. His hand--touching her knee--moved for a fraction of a second.

“Having a good time,” he said quietly. “I cross a boundary?”

“No,” she said. “I just, uh, I’m not faking you know,” she whispered quietly in his ear.

“I know,” he said, eyes on her face. Across the table, Darcy realized Jane had stopped carrying on with Jack and was looking at her in concern. When Darcy got up to go to the bathroom, Jane went, too.

 

“Are you okay?” Jane asked, when they were alone. “Was this a bad idea?”

“I don’t know,” Darcy admitted honestly. “Why is he being so charming? What could he possibly get out of charming me?”

“He volunteered to do this,” Jane said. “He seemed surprised when I said you were still dating. Maybe he just likes you?”   

“I just feels weird for a STRIKE guy to be interested in this kind of a relationship,” Darcy said. “He jumps out of planes! Like, a slam poet or someone studying sociology would be interested in a more intellectual thing, but a freaking agent?” Jane shrugged.

“Thor’s Thor and he writes me love songs,” she said.

“Again, magical unicorn,” Darcy said.

 

When they got back to the table, Loki and Jack had already left. “Jack is still a little angry,” Thor said.

“Oh,” Jane said.

“That’s nice of him,” Darcy said, sitting down.

Brock smiled at her, scars twisting gently. “Did you want dessert?” he asked politely.

“Sure,” Darcy said. She might as well have chocolate, right? But she didn’t expect him to order the soufflé or for Thor and Jane to leave once Thor applied some gentle pressure.

“I asked him to do that,” Brock said. “I wanted to bribe you with chocolate.”

“Oh,” Darcy said.

“And give us some privacy to discuss boundaries,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in dating.”

“I, uh, still like affectionate things. It’s not like you stop wanting to be hugged or going to the movies if you have medical issues,” she said.

“No,” he said. “You don’t.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“So, tell me about the kinds of intimacy that you’re comfortable with?” he said.

“I miss cuddling,” she admitted. “And everything you’ve been doing tonight--as long as you understand that I can’t get into sex.”

“What’s sex?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” Darcy said.

“How do you define sex?” he asked wryly. “It depends on what the meaning of the word _is_ is, huh?”

“Was that a Clinton impeachment joke?” she asked, grinning.

“More or less,” he said smoothly. “I wasn’t sure if you were too young.”

“I was a political science major,” she said. “But, um, I think I would define sex as intercourse, pretty traditionally. Touching and cuddling is still good for me, I’m not repulsed by that or anything. I know some asexual people find being touched uncomfortable, but Loki’s trick was specifically worded enough that it didn’t impact that, thank goodness. And kissing. I can still kiss people.”

“Where?” he said teasingly. “Where would you like to kiss me?”

 

The chocolate soufflé arrived as she was grinning stupidly back at him. Darcy dug a spoon in, then paused. She looked at him. “Why?” Darcy asked. “Why are you not running for the hills?”

“I travel a lot. And ever since Triskelion,” he said, gesturing to his face, “dating casually like I used to has been difficult for me.”

“You won’t miss sex?” Darcy said.

“I already miss sex,” he said, looking sheepish. “But—as our mutual friend tells me—I need to work on being in a relationship instead of being the world’s oldest frat boy.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, feeling like a project or a test girlfriend. He must have noticed her disappointment.

“Also, you are incredibly gorgeous and I feel lucky that you’re even looking at me twice,” Brock said.

“That’s better,” Darcy told him. He grinned.

“What I am trying to say, in the shittiest possible fashion is, rather than being your late night text guy, which is what I used to do, I wanna try to be better at boyfriend things with you.” He stressed the last two words. “That sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said. “But you won’t be disappointed if we’re not having sex?”

“No,” he said. “No disappointment whatsoever.”

  


He kissed her goodbye when he dropped her off. They were in the middle of a hug when he looked at her and leaned down. It was the softest press of his lips. “That was very nicely done,” Darcy said, touching his arm.

“I try. We should probably have a safe word for when we do things together,” he said. “So you’re comfortable.”

“Thank you,” she said. She realized he made sure she was inside before he left.

“How’d it go?” Jane asked, when she went inside.

“Really well,” Darcy said. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” she joked. But everything went stunningly well: the first week they had a really good movie date before he had to leave on a mission and he called when he got back. To her surprise, he started introducing her as his girlfriend at work with evident pride. “She tased Thor,” Brock told the guy who ran STRIKE Epsilon.

“He’s very proud,” Darcy said.

“I am,” he said, rubbing her back.

 

It was after one of their dates, on the way home, when she looked at him and took his hand. “Would you like to stay tonight, cuddle with me?” she asked.

“Yeah, I would,” he said.


	6. It's Fun To Name Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

Brock was terrified. “You can do this, you’ve jumped out of fucking planes,” he told his shirtless reflection in Darcy’s bathroom mirror. He’d been carrying the change of clothes in his gym bag since their first date, ready in case she asked. There was a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He’d tried them on to make sure they were enough. Enough to cover most of his scars. Still, he thought, she would feel them. The deep gauges made by the building debris falling on him. He stepped into the sweatpants and pulled them up over his legs. That fabric was enough to muffle some of the irregular texture of his skin, but the t-shirt was thinner. Still, it would be odd if he slept or relaxed in a hoodie, wouldn’t it? He’d sweat, too; the HYDRA serums that had saved his life had made him run hot. Nervousness made him even warmer. He rubbed a hand over his bare abdomen, feeling a particularly deep slash that ran from his right rib cage to his left hip. It was almost a furrow. Part of the ceiling of Floor 41. She would definitely feel that if she touched him. He slid the t-shirt over his neck and sighed. The scars traced across his entire body, although they’d faded from a red-pink to pale, shiny white. He was still troubled by his injuries, even though he’d been able to go back to work. Sometimes he still had sharp, jolting nerve pain. His SHIELD doctor had assured him that it was just the damaged nerves healing. Recovery, he’d said. Brock hadn’t anticipated that recovery would be so fucking painful. In the months between Triskelion and Hill and Fury breaking him out of the hospital, he’d been in agonizing pain. He’d been able to channel that pain into mock-anger as Crossbones, when he stole back SHIELD’s missing equipment and other artifacts. Therapy and exercise and steady work meant he was mostly calm now. It was just the prospect of intimacy that made his nerves jangle. He took several deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out, he thought. 

 

Just the idea of taking his clothes off in front of someone made him panic. He didn’t take his fucking shirts off anywhere but the gym. He sure as shit didn’t talk to anyone but his doctors about his spiraling anxiety and fears about sex. After his time as Crossbones had ended, he’d tried to sleep with a woman he’d dated casually before he was injured. Had a panic attack when she started taking his pants off and nothing. No fucking activity. It was humiliating. She’d told him it was fine, but for him, it wasn’t. Not fine at all. Pushing goddamned rope, he thought bitterly. He’d ended up going on a drinking binge the next day, not returning her calls, generally fucking up anything they could have had. It wasn’t like he’d had a ton of deep, meaningful relationships as a traveling SHIELD agent or could really disclose what his life was about. That was one of the things that made this relationship with Darcy so important to him. He didn’t need to lie to her about anything. She could know about his work. She could know about this. He could trust her. He did trust her. She’d kept that elevator encounter a secret from Jane, he’d realized. Not disclosed that they were seeing the same therapist. Protected him from embarrassment, even when she didn’t know the extent of his problems. 

 

But he hadn’t told Darcy that sex was largely off the table for him, too. 

 

Why couldn’t he fucking tell her? Because he didn’t want to say it, he knew. He didn’t want to tell Darcy that--even if she was somehow uncursed--he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to perform again. But he was crazy about her. She was funny and beautiful and kind. He certainly had plenty of thoughts about her when they weren’t together. She was constantly on his mind, in one way or another. If he wasn’t trying to make her smile or thinking about where they could go on dates, it was whether or not she suspected his secret or imagining her naked. Unlike his dick, his brain was too goddamned cooperative. He’d lost the thread of an entire staff meeting the week after he saw her in that nightshirt. 

 

And the more important she became to him, the more his anxiety increased when he thought about anything intimate. The negative thoughts had wormed their way into his brain to the point that he worried cuddling would reveal to her how soft he was. So far, he could pretend to be a normal guy, flirt with her, without her realizing that any suggestiveness on his part was a fucking joke. But tonight might change all that. He swallowed and watched his adam’s apple bob, then flicked his shirt up to dab a little of the sweat off of his stomach. “Breathe, motherfucker,” he told himself. He was all hot. There were beads of sweat along his hairline. How would he tell Darcy?  “Shit,” he said to his reflection, “just get out there.”

 

He stepped out of the bathroom, carrying his gym bag. It was across the hall from her bedroom. The door was ajar. “Hey,” she said, looking a little hesitant, when he appeared in the doorway. She already had her pajamas on. There was a box of Crackerjack in her lap and she evidently moved her pillows around so he could have the side of the bed nearest the door.

“Hi,” he said, standing there for a second. His fucking heart was racing. He took a deep slow breath. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, desperately wanting to say  _ I’m not okay, I’m not okay. _

“Yeah,” she said. “As long as you know sex isn’t happening and that’s not a problem for you?”

“It’s not a problem for me at all,” he said calmly. “The eating in bed thing might be a little weird, though. Could be a dealbreaker.” He set his bag down and climbed very carefully into her bed.

“It’s Crackerjack,” she said. “How can you not eat Crackerjack in bed?” She was eating a piece when he slid his arm around her. 

“This okay?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Darcy said, beaming at him.

“They still put a prize in those?” he asked. She wiggled closer. Fuck, he thought, she was so close. He wanted her close, but he could feel himself sweating a little in response to her nearness. It was the push-pull equivalent of fight or flight in his brain. He’d never been a runner, though. He would stay with her, not be distant. 

“Yes, technically, but it’s a total ripoff because they’re paper things now. Boring,” Darcy said.

“How can they even call themselves Crackerjack without jacks? That’s bullshit,” he told her. Darcy laughed, then reached up with her other hand to push a strand of his hair back, He swallowed nervously. 

“Thank you for doing this for me,” she said. Her eyes moved down to his neck. Was she looking at his scars, he wondered? “I know this isn’t ideal for someone like you,” Darcy said, “being in a relationship without sex.” Her sentence snapped him out of his self-consciousness.

“Darcy,” he said. “I’m happy. Really happy. I’ll be happy if we never have sex.”

“Really?” She looked dubious. He smirked.

“I mean, I do think about you naked during meetings,” he joked. “But I can stop, if you want?”

“I dunno,” Darcy said, looking thoughtful. “I can’t police your thoughts and I don’t actually mind you thinking I’m attractive,” she said. “I mean, if you get more of a charge out of kissing, it would make sense, right? You’re more sexually engaged than me.” Brock opened his mouth and closed it. He let her keep talking. “It’s really complicated to think about my back rubs feeling platonic to me and more erotic to you…” Darcy mused.

“Just tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable, all right?” he said.

“Okay. Can I snuggle in?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Get in here, sweetheart. Bring your Crackerjack.” That made her laugh again and he could relax. Maybe if they kept things light, easy like this, she wouldn’t notice anything was out of place.

“Do you mind the TV?” she asked. He hardly ever watched anything but sports, but he gathered she liked television and he thought it would keep things light, too.

“Nah,” he said. “Keep it on if you want, but talk to me.”

“About what?” she said. 

“Anything,” Brock said. “Why do you have a bread pillow and a unicorn?”

“They’re gifts from Jane, so I never sleep alone. Mr. Brioche is my bread pillow and the unicorn pillow doesn’t have a name yet.”

“That’s important, huh?” he said.

“It’s fun to name stuff,” Darcy told him. “Cars, household appliances, pillows...”

He grinned, leaned down, and kissed the top of her head. “What was that for?” she asked.

“Because you’re fun,” he said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, irony alert: when I was doing a little research into anxiety-linked ED for story, one of the things typically recommended for couples is actually cuddling and other less-pressured forms of intimacy to help the anxious partner relax.


	7. This is Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

Darcy woke up. She was curled next to Brock, one of his sturdy arms slung over her pajama-clad belly. He was snoring in her ear. It was very warm and cozy. Like having a wall of muscle at your back. She sighed happily. She’d been nervous about this at first. Last night, her nerves had been all jumpy. A small nagging voice in her head kept repeating that it was leading him on to ask for this and that he’d probably want more later. Something real. For some reason, she’d classed cuddling without sex as “not real” in her brain. Tons of the blogs and articles she’d read said it was unrealistic, even cruel, to expect an asexual’s partner to remain celibate. They encouraged asexuals to open their relationships, so their partners could find sex somewhere else. But Darcy wasn’t sure she could handle that, either.

For some people, it was like having someone clean your pool: nice because you hated chasing leaves around yourself. Not her. She was having freaking nostalgia for leaf skimmers. She’d gotten weirdly anxious about the idea of him seeing someone else, just in her own mind. But it would probably happen, sooner or later, right? Brock was only human. Why wouldn’t he want to have sex? He was a sexy guy. Old, pre-curse Darcy so would have had her hands all over him at the slightest pretext, too. Probably. Well, there would have been butt pinching for sure. He still had a really nice butt, she’d realized, when he crawled in bed with her. He was in phenomenal shape. It made her feel all squishy by comparison. But he hadn’t made the slightest move to pressure her for sex. They’d snuggled and talked and she had felt comfortable enough to fall asleep first. But he might not always be so understanding, her brain nagged at her.

She pushed away the stream of negative thoughts and tried to concentrate on the warm feeling of his body. Trailing her fingers over his forearm, she sighed. She wanted him all to herself. All his attention, all his affection. Even if they’d only been dating a few weeks, she’d totally flunk open relationship, she knew. Be a giant, jelly bitch. Would Brock want someone else, she wondered?  Darcy went a little tense at the mental image. She’d probably kill Loki out of sheer hostility. This was his fault. She could totally run the Asgardian over with Jane’s van a few times now, since she’d imagined her new boyfriend blithely going off to have sex with some other woman. “Ugh,” she said turning so she was closer to Brock.

Darcy tried to relax and go back to sleep. She listened to Brock snore softly. She rubbed his arm. Even tried to sync her breathing with his. He breathed so slowly. She was still awake when there was a sudden blaring of noise: she’d left the TV on and now they were in the infomercial hours. She craned her head up. Someone was feeding an entire head of lettuce into a blender or something? Oh, man, she had to turn that off. She wiggled experimentally. Darcy was fairly close to the edge of the bed. She was trying not to wake him, so if she just scooted out slowly and let his arm down, that might work. In response to her wiggles, Brock’s hold on her tightened. “Whoops,” she whispered to herself, as he shifted her closer. His knees were tucked just behind hers now, legs sturdy and warm against the back of her thighs. “You awake?” she asked, wondering if he’d done that in his sleep. She couldn’t see most of his face for her hair. How was he not suffocating anyway? He continued snoring. He’d quietly warned her that he sometimes had nightmares before they both fell asleep, but she hadn’t heard him do anything more alarming than snore like a hibernating bear. The sound was a little wheezy at the end. It was kinda cute, though.

Maybe if she moved up instead of forward, she thought, she could get to the tv remote on her nightstand. Darcy was trying to slide higher up on her pillow and only succeeded in getting her pajama top all bunched up over her belly. Hmmm. She would move his arm, she thought. It was the only way. Darcy lifted up his arm, marveling at how heavy it was, and plopped it back down. “You stay there,” she whispered, scooting forward. She was precipitously perched on the very edge of the bed. She attempted to lean over and reach the remote by shifting her weight a little. Unfortunately, she missed it by a fraction and accidentally pushed the remote. It tumbled off the nightstand onto the floor. “Shoot,” Darcy said, peering over the side of the bed. She was stretching down for the black rectangle when her balance went. “Ahhh!” she said involuntarily, as she started to fall out of the bed. She landed with a _thud_ on the floor. 

“Darcy?” Brock said. Darcy looked over her shoulder. She’d landed on her side. He was looking down at her over the side of the bed.

“I fell,” she said sheepishly.

“What happened?” he said, sliding over and putting his feet out of the bed so he could reach down and lift her up. One second she was on the floor and the next he’d hooked his arms under her armpits and lifted her easily.

“I was reaching for the remote to turn off juicer man and his carrot smoothie,” she said woefully.

“Yeah?” he said. He’d lifted her up and put her on his lap. “You okay?”

“My dignity is dented,” Darcy said, too embarrassed to really make eye contact. She tucked her face against his shoulder instead. She could feel warmth in her face and knew she was blushing now. “But you just picked me up like a photo I saw of Justin Bieber being lifted by his bodyguard like a toddler.” She sighed. “I’m a swaggy bro.” Brock laughed.

“Okay,” he said. “What if you get in the middle of the bed, huh?” He reached for the remote in her hand and clicked off the television. “That is annoying,” he said. When she turned her head to look at him, their faces were close together. She leaned forward without thinking, kissing him. His mouth was warm and soft. Almost tentative. She made a sound she hoped was encouraging and he responded by pressing his mouth against her top lip, sucking and teasing her with his tongue. Darcy was used to Ian’s indifferent, oddly moist kisses. She hadn’t been kissed like this in a long time. Kissed with intensity. Eagerness. Darcy curled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The brush of his stubble across her face made her feel _something_ , although she couldn’t give it a name. But she wanted more of it. More of feelings and his arms around her and that warm, searching kiss. She might not want sex, but she wanted to be kissed.She felt his hands against her waist under her pajama top. His fingers grazed the skin of her belly and then made circles. He pulled back and she made a sad sound. He grinned. “You feel okay doing this lying down?” Brock asked.

“I think so,” Darcy said. She was still a little nervous as she lay back on the bed. He stopped for a second, reached out, and touched her face.

“You look beautiful like that,” he said. “You need these?” He meant her glasses. When she said no, he put them on the nightstand. Then he leaned down very gently and started to dot little kisses on her face: across her cheekbones, down the bridge of her nose, even lightly pressing her closed eyelids. She felt him shifting his weight down so he was half against her, half between her and the edge of the bed. “This okay?” Brock asked. He was breathing a little roughly. When she looked at him, she could tell he was aroused. His pupils were wide and there was something in his expression.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, thoroughly confused by how pleasant it was to be kissed and touched. She’d thought she’d be too nervous. To her surprise, he dropped his face down against her shoulder and lay still for a moment. Their bodies overlapped more as he shifted. She felt his head turn and his stubble brushed her neck. “That tickles,” Darcy whispered, wiggling a little.

“Yeah?” he said. “You’re ticklish?”

“A little,” Darcy lied. She was extremely ticklish.

“So, how does this feel?” he said, rubbing his stubble into her neck. It really tickled. She’d never been able to control her physical reactions when she was tickled. She always moved--squirmed or wiggled or jumped. Without meaning to, she jolted, arching her back. That made him shift, too. They were tangled together: their bodies touching, her breasts pressed against his chest for a moment, the full weight of his body on hers, even their legs entwined. Too late, it registered to her that it probably felt very different for him, like the beginnings of sex. But before she could make a joke about accidentally kicking him when tickled to diffuse the tension, he made a sound. He groaned against her neck, moving his weight against her. “Oh God,” he said. “You feel so good.” As soon as he’d spoken, he froze. There was a tense moment of silence. She didn’t know what to say. He spoke first. “Shit, I fucked up, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“ he repeated. Brock scrambled up and looked guilty. He was breathing heavily.

“It’s okay,” Darcy said. She didn’t know what to say. He raked his hands over his face and sighed.

“I escalated,” he said. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine, really.” She hadn’t panicked. “I didn’t freak out,” she said, delighted. She had been scared she would freak sometime. But she’d felt totally calm, even with him on top of her. Good, even.

“Christ,” he muttered, rubbing his face.

“Do you need a minute?” she asked, trying to figure out how to say it politely. “If you need a break to, um, deal with any situations, that’s okay, too? A bathroom break?” He looked at her, clearly confused.

“Situations?” he said.

“Guy situations,” she said. She needed to be an adult about this, she reminded herself. There was nothing wrong with talking about it. But Ian had been super reserved about sex talk--any kind of sex talk--and no one she’d dated after him had hung around long enough for them to talk about much beyond her insistence on condoms and consent. It was impossible not to grin. “I’m trying to be classy and not to use the phrase jerk off, but there are no polite euphemisms that don’t sound either creepily Biblical or vaguely like romance novels. Your masculine essence situation?” she suggested, laughing at herself. He tilted his head at her.

“Masculine essence?” he repeated, snorting.

“That’s the cheesy romance novel one,” she said. “I thought it sounded more polite, like a shampoo brand.”

“Stop,” he said, laughing. “Don’t fuck up my feelings about shampoo, honey.”

“Okay,” she said, between bouts of laughter. She held her lips together, trying to stop. He was looking at her with an expression she’d never seen before: half-amused, half-tender. To her surprise, he leaned forward and kissed her again. “I haven’t made you want to run away screaming yet?” Darcy asked, when he pulled back. He looked at her.

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yay me,” she said, running her hands over his shoulders. She felt him shiver and watched as he glanced down at her fingers.

“I, uh, might need that break now,” he said. “Be right back.” He kissed her again, more lightly and climbed off the bed.

When the door shut behind him, she sank into the bed a little. She heard the water turn on in the bathroom. “Ahhhhh,” she said to herself, “he’s trying to mask the sounds.” It was weirdly endearing. She wondered if it would be wildly uncomfortable if he did that in the room with her. Her just...being there would be a mood killer, right? And he might want her to touch him? Was she ready for that? Darcy wasn’t sure. Plus, she’d totally have to wash her sheets more.

 

***

In the bathroom, Brock turned on the water. He didn’t want her to hear him and be uncomfortable. Then he leaned back against the door for a second, took a deep breath, and ran a hand over his sweatpants. He ached. Rolling around with her had gotten him all worked up. His dick was just so fucking sensitive at the moment. Even if he wasn’t hard, he could still get himself off. He just wasn’t used to anybody knowing about it. So, he’d be quick, he thought. Get it over with, go back to Darcy. They could cuddle. It would be fine. Not for the first time, he wished his desires were less intense. Having her underneath him like that had felt so close to normal it made his head spin. He’d lost that nervous feeling while they slept and then he’d felt like himself. He sighed and his eyes fell on the sink. That was when he realized she’d left a few washcloths and a bottle of lotion on the counter. “Jesus Christ,” he said. He’d been so anxious before that he hadn’t noticed. But she’d prepped for this, he thought, swallowing. Heat bloomed in his groin. He felt torn between shame that she was probably assuming that he had a raging hard-on when he didn’t and arousal that she’d done this for him. Thought about him doing this, he realized, feeling a throbbing pleasure in response to imagining her carefully arranging towels. For him. He untied his sweatpants and reached hastily for the bottle, wanting to chase that feeling. “Oh, God,” he said, as he palmed himself and thought about her body. She was just feet away and waiting for him. That was enough to push him close to the edge. He rubbed himself, groaning, as he thought about the voluptuousness of her mouth. Imagined it around him. 

She  was waiting when he came back. Her hair fell a little across her face as she sat up. “You okay?” she said, sounding a little nervous. He wasn’t sure in the dim light from the hallway, but he thought she was blushing.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m good. Really good.”

“I’m glad,” she said. An expression of relief crossed her face.

“You want to cuddle some more?” he said, closing the door.

“Yes,” she said, as he climbed into bed next to her. She crawled into his arms.

“You feel okay?” he said. He felt utterly relaxed.

“Yeah,” she said. Then she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. He turned his head to chase another kiss,. He made sure to put a little heat into it and heard her make a sound. That was a good sound, he’d realized. A little sigh. “What was that for?” she said, when he broke the kiss.

“You’re thanking me?” he said teasingly. “You shouldn’t be thanking me.”

“You’re not let down?” she said. He shook his head. She smiled at him. He didn’t think it would turn into another intense round of kissing, but she looked at him yearningly. “Can I kiss you some more?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said. He couldn’t have said no to that face even if he wanted to and he certainly didn’t want to. It was her tongue that was the surprise.

 

He was on top of her again as she raked her nails through his hair and he felt hot warmth in his abdomen. He needed to pull back. “Sweetheart, I gotta take a break,” he huffed. He looked down. “Can you, uh?” She’d bracketed her legs around his hips and was squeezing.  

“Let you go?” she said, breathing heavily and relaxing her knees. “I’m afraid I’m turning into one of those really possessive girlfriends,” she said. “Sorry. I feel like a fundamentalist virgin, you’re not allowed to have any, but we’re pretending this is fine, everything is fine,” she joked. He had to laugh.

“I’m not complaining,” he said. Then he had to pry himself away from her before anything embarrassing happened in her bed.

“That’s what all those guys say, but they end up porn addicts out of frustration,” she said, putting her hands over her face.

“Stop saying porn, that doesn’t help,” he mock-grumbled as he crawled out of bed, wondering how she didn’t realize he was having the best goddamn time he’d had in years.

“Sorry,” she called, as he fled to the bathroom.

 

***

“What was that last night?” Jane asked in the morning. Brock had gone to the gym. Darcy was still drinking coffee and trying to wake up.

“Hmm?” Darcy said sleepily. She didn’t understand how he had the energy to go punch things. She could happily sleep all Saturday.

“Someone was up and walking around a bunch of times,” Jane said.

“Brock,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Does he have insomnia?” Jane said.

“Jane,” Darcy said slowly and with emphasis, “he was going from my room to the bathroom.” She waited for Jane to get the hint. When Jane just looked at her, she wiggled her eyebrows. “For breaks. He was...um, taking care of business, as Elvis might say.”

“Oh my God,” Jane said. “What did you do to him?”

“Excuse me?” Darcy said.

“It was like five times!” Jane said.

“It was only two times,” Darcy said. “Maybe three. His sex drive is obviously higher than mine.”

“Hell, it’s higher than mine,” Jane said.

“But don’t say anything, I don’t want him embarrassed, he’s being really good about this,” she told Jane. “I can’t believe he actually _wants_ to be with me.”


	8. Intimacy Exercises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“Can we do a weird thing?” Darcy asked Brock in bed that night. He’d come back for more cuddling after his gym sessions and errands. He couldn’t think about anything but her. He’d spent the day veering between a state of arousal and distraction.

“Sure,” he said. “What’s the thing?” A part of him hoped she wanted to be touched. He was eager to get his hands all over her, if she was into it.

“Intimacy exercise,” Darcy said. “We spend several minutes looking into each other’s eyes and try to breathe in unison—I know it sounds dumb,” she began. “If you aren’t comfortable?”

“No,” he said. “Let’s do it. C’mere.” She took off her glasses and wiggled in close, so they were sharing the same pillow. “Good?” he asked. He wasn’t going to feel self-conscious about his burned face, he thought, pushing away any negative thoughts.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, grinning. “We’re not supposed to talk, though.” Up close, he could smell her vanilla perfume and see each of her eyelashes. The ends were faintly blonde, even if the roots of her lashes were dark. He’d never noticed that before. Or the little beauty marks on her face. He’d definitely spent a lot of time thinking about her mouth, though. They stared at each other. She smiled. He smiled back. The color rose in her face as he kept his gaze focused on her. It was intense, Brock thought, you never made eye contact with people that much. Certainly not like this, for minutes at a time.

Darcy was the first to actually break. She giggled. “Being watched is weirdly intense,” she said. “But your eyes are so beautiful.”

“You think I have pretty eyes?” Brock said.

“Oh God, yeah. And the nicest mouth,” she said, sighing. She reached out and ran her fingers over his scarred cheek. Her tone was warm, almost purring. He felt a corresponding warmth, low in his belly, when she talked about him in that voice.

“Yeah? Have you not realized what a mess I am?” Brock said.

“You’re not a mess,” she told him seriously.

“I’m a total mess,” he said, chuckling. _More than you know,_ he thought. They watched each other for several more minutes and he felt his breathing speed up.

“You’re excited,” Darcy said. She sounded curious.

“Very,” he said. He was incredibly turned on. “What do we do now?” he asked.

“Another experiment,” she said, sitting up and turning to her nightstand. “Look, I ordered these. Kiss cards.” It was a deck of cards about kissing. “It’s a game,” Darcy explained. “You kiss based on the cards.”

“We’re not playing it with other people, right?” he said.

“No, just us,” she said, laughing. “I’m no good at sharing,” she told him.

“Good,” he said, “because I’m not interested in kissing anyone else.”

“Really?” she said.

“Nope,” he said. He was surprised when she leaned forward and kissed him urgently. “Is this part of the game?” he teased.

“Nope,” she said. “I got excited and skipped a step. I’m going to shuffle and you draw the first card. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. He reached for the first card. “Hmmm. Neck kiss?” he said. She tilted her head back obligingly and he traced a line of kisses across her neck. She shivered in response, curling her fingers in his hair. He’d been kissing her for a minute when she sighed.

“I think that counts as more than one,” she said. He was brushing his mouth over her clavicle gently.

“I’m just being thorough,” he said. He felt small jolts of arousal whenever she wiggled closer to him, their bodies touching.

“Uh-huh,” she said, sounding dreamy. Her first card was a hand kiss.

“Isn’t that my job?” he said skeptically. “The guy kisses the woman’s hand?”

“Nope,” she said, grinning. To his surprise, she brought the palm of his hand to her mouth, not the back. She pressed her lips against the center of his hand and sucked gently. He rocked in arousal, feeling heat low in his body.

“Christ,” he muttered.

“Mmmm-hmm,” she said. With agonizing slowness, she kissed up his index finger, then paused for a moment and made eye contact with him before slipping it in her mouth. It was her arch look that undid him.

“Oh God,” he moaned. “I--I need a break, baby.” She released him slowly and he groaned.

“Okay,” she said. He sat up and looked at her as he moved backwards towards the door. “Should we try a less racy one next?” she asked.

“I didn’t know hand kisses could be such a turn on,” he said roughly, seizing the door handle. She laughed. He passed Jane in the hallway. “Jane,” he said, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“Rumlow,” she said. When the bathroom door shut behind him, he heard her start to giggle quietly and speak to Darcy.

“Am I going to have to stage some sort of weird sex intervention for the two of you? Should you be doing that to the poor man? Driving him crazy?” Jane was saying in a low voice. He heard Darcy’s louder reply.

“Shut up, Janey, I’m getting some. As much some as I’m capable of,” she added. Brock leaned against the bathroom door and started to laugh. Everyone thought she was turning him in a sex maniac? It was deeply ironic. When he came back, Darcy was sitting up, thumbing through the cards, and she smiled at him. “Cheek kiss?” she offered.

“I want to kiss you,” he said. “Forget the cards. I just want to kiss you.” He took the cards out of her hands and tossed them at the foot of the bed. 

They’d been kissing for several minutes when Darcy asked if she could see him without his shirt. Brock stopped for a second. “It’s okay if you don’t,” she began and he shook his head.

“No, let’s do it,” he said quietly. “This is, uh, difficult for me.”

“Yeah? I knew you never took your shirt off in front of me,” she said. He nodded. Swallowed.

“I’ve got bad scars, sweetheart,” he said. “Just, uh, they’re real bad, you know?” She tilted her head, looked thoughtful.

“What if I felt them before I saw them?” she said.

“What?” he said.

“Like this?” she said, sliding a hand under his t-shirt. “Is this okay?” Her eyes were carefully watching his face. He felt his belly clench when her fingers touched his deepest, ugliest scar. “You okay?” she said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he repeated.

“You want to kiss me a little again?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said roughly. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. That helped him relax. He was sucking on her bottom lip when her hands slid up over his battered pectorals. Her thumbs rubbed gentle circles into his skin and then moved over his ribcage.

“Okay?” she whispered, when he paused to grin against her mouth.

“Yeah.”

 

 

They were doing a ridiculous _New York Times_ love questionnaire later in bed when she asked when he’d last sung to himself or someone else. “This is supposed make us fall in love?” he asked. “This--this right here,” he said, as he tapped the paper print out, “is why people from the city have an issue with the _Times.”_

“An issue with the newspaper?” she said, giggling. “An issue?”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time I sung to somebody.”

“I can’t sing,” she said. “I’m jelly of people who can. Can you?”

“Eh,” Brock said. “I’m okay.”

“Sing something for me?” she asked sweetly.

“Like what?” he said.

“I don’t know,” she said. She reached for her phone. “We can play something? You pick something. Your song, your choice.”

“Okay,” he said, thumbing through her music. “Ah, here,” he said, pressing play with a grin. As the song started, he faked singing.

“Not that song!” Darcy said, swatting at him. “I cannot believe you are trying to mouth the words to ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together’--stop that,” she said.

“I can’t really sing, I’m not that guy,” he said.

“Who is?” Darcy said.

“Sinatra was that guy maybe,” he said, shrugging. She laughed.

“Yeah, you don’t hold yourself to a high standard, just to _Frank Sinatra,”_ she joked. He made a face. “Let’s do another question. What three things do we have in common?” Darcy asked. He’d noticed she was skipping the darker questions, anything that had to do with death or life expectancy. Protecting him, he thought with an odd pang.

“We’re a lot different,” he said. “But you’re beautiful,” he said.

“Awwww,” Darcy said.

“Yeah, it’s one of the things we have in common,” he said lightly, enjoying the cool feel of the lie as he said it. “I look pretty good, all things considered, you might be lucky to have me.”

“I am,” she said, ruffling her fingers through his hair. She gave him a long look. “We have proximity to SHIELD weirdness, too.”

“What else?” he said.

“Travel? But I feel like I’ve spent all my time freezing my butt off in snowy observatories and you’ve mostly gone places to shoot at people,” she said.

“Work travel,” he said, grinning.

“Yup,” Darcy said, frowning. “But we both have really nice hair.”

“We do,” he said, smiling at her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kissing cards exist! One set is called Kisses 4 Us: https://www.etsy.com/shop/Kisses4Us?ref=simple-shop-header-name&listing_id=271914836


	9. Everything's Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos on this silly little fic.

 

Before work one morning, Brock wanted to take her for coffee. “Just us?” Darcy said. Usually, they went places with Jane and Thor.

“Just us,” he said, grinning as he slid his shirt on. “I want to monopolize your time.”

“Okay.” Darcy felt a strange little bubble of happiness that he wanted to spend more time with her. She got dressed, said goodbye to Jane, and followed him out to the car. 

“I’m giving you radio jurisdiction,” he said, smiling. 

“You’re just saying that because you like to drive,” she said.

“It’s DC, you need combat training to drive here,” he said. That made her laugh. At the coffee shop, he told her to go sit down while he waited in line. She watched him from the booth, wondering how she got so lucky. She was sitting there when someone said his name.

“Brock!” a woman said, coming over to hug him. “How are you?” She was a very attractive woman, Darcy realized. They chatted for several minutes and it was difficult for Darcy not to stare. Finally, she heard him say something about being here with his girlfriend, then he turned and pointed Darcy out. She waved back at the friendly waves aimed in her direction, trying to quash down the weird feeling in her gut. 

“So, who was that?” Darcy asked, trying to make her voice sound innocent when he got back to the table.

“Melinda Dempsey,” he said. “Works in legal.” He slid a muffin across the table. “I guessed double chocolate chip,” he said. She’d told him to surprise her.

“Thank you,” Darcy said.  

 

“Things are going really well with you and Brock,” Jane said to Darcy in the lab. They were working on Jane’s latest project. “Wrench?” Jane said. Darcy passed her the wrench. Jane still liked to modify her own equipment. 

“Here it is,” Darcy said. “Yup. Really well.” Darcy frowned.

“What’s that face?” Jane asked.

“I had a moment today, when we were getting coffee,” Darcy confessed. “He ran into a really pretty woman from legal, I got distinct ex-girlfriend vibes.”

“So?” Jane said. 

“Ex-girlfriend who might, you know, want to have sex?” Darcy said in a low voice. As soon as she said it, she felt herself getting emotional. Darcy blinked. Jane looked at her alertly. 

 “He’s crazy about you!” Jane said. 

“For now,” Darcy said. “What if I can’t keep him happy?”

“We keep having this circular conversation--” Jane began, sighing.

“Jane--”

“No, wait, listen, okay? Do you remember when I was crying over Thor in my mom’s house?” Jane said. “That whole time, you kept telling me he would come back if he could, whenever I wallowed, all right?”

“I get what you’re trying to say, really, but I can’t get myself in a happy headspace,” Darcy said. “Ughhhhh! It’s so frustrating! Let me hit the doohickey with that wrench.”

“No. No hitting my machinery,” Jane scolded. “Go downstairs and find Thor. He’s in the gym, get him to let you hit something.”

“Okey-dokey,” Darcy said. She took her travel mug of coffee and bopped downstairs. She found Thor doing push-ups with one of the Epsilon guys sitting on his back.

“He’s on two-hundred and fifty-one!” the Epsilon guy said, eyes wide.

“Jane sent me to hit stuff. Where do I hit stuff?” Darcy asked. Another of the Epsilon guys helped her put on gloves and took her over to a bag. He demonstrated a few punches, then helped guide her into the right stance for swinging.    
“Got it?” he said.

“Probably not,” she admitted. He laughed. Darcy swung. “Pow!” she yelled, when the bag swung backwards. “Ooof!” It had swung back and hit her a little. 

“You okay?” Epsilon guy said.

“I think so,” Darcy said, making a face and rubbing her nose with a gloved hand. She started to swing again.  _ Thwack-thwack-thwack.  _ She finally got used to the motion of punching and was actually sweating in a cathartic way, imagining the bag as the faces of people she didn’t particularly like at the moment: Loki, her high school algebra teacher, a rude person at Jane’s last conference, attractive women who had had sex with her boyfriend and whoever ate the last bag of white cheddar popcorn in the vending machine. She had swung victoriously when somebody whistled close behind her. The noise was enough to make her jump, wobble, and halfway spin around. “Ahhh!” she said, swinging again. 

 

Brock caught her glove. “You okay? Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart,” he said. He was smiling so widely his scars flexed.

“You snuck up on me!” she said, lightly punching him on the arm with her other hand.

“Sorry,” he said, grinning. “You were doing good. I’m impressed.”

“Brad from Epsilon was showing me,” Darcy explained. “Jane won’t let me hit any of her stuff…”

“Brad Roberts?” Brock said, frowning. “He’s cozying up to my girl?”

“No,” Darcy said. “I just--” she looked at Brock. “Come with me,” she said, glomping over to a bench and sitting down. She pulled her gloves off.

“Did I do something?” he said.

“Nope,” she said grimly. “You’re perfect.” He shook his head, laughing. 

“Baby, if you think that, l gotta tell you--”

“Hold on, I just want to get it out, okay? I started to panic when I saw that woman from Legal this morning.” She lowered her voice. “ _ All  _ these women have had sex with you and I can’t.” She sighed. “It sucks. It sucks eggs.” He tilted his head at her, expression befuddled.

“It’s not like it’s, you know, a million chicks,” he said. “Maybe like twenty-five. Thirty?” 

“Thirty?”

“I’m old,” he said. “It might be slightly higher, it’s not like I counted.”

“That is not helping!” she said. He grinned. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Let’s go for a walk, there’s something I need to tell you. I’ve been, uh, maybe not as honest as I should have been?” he said, rubbing his jaw. He led her to a quiet bench outside the building, then coaxed Darcy to sit next to him. “I, uh--” he said, then stopped. He looked away. Rubbed his mangled ear.

“What is it?” she said. “If there’s something you need that I--” she couldn’t finish the sentence without getting all emotional. 

“No, no, okay?” he said. “I just want to be with you.” He cupped her face with his hands. “Everything’s good,” he said. “Everything’s good.”

 

Darcy wanted to say that  _ good _ didn’t usually feel quite this agonizing, but he slid her into his lap and hugged her gently. His hands rubbed circles on her back. “All good,” he repeated.

 

***

“I whiffed it,” Brock told their mutual therapist that afternoon. “I couldn’t tell her about it.” He always referred to his problem as an it. 

“It sounds like she wanted reassurance that you weren’t interested in more sexual activities with previous partners?” Sondra offered, writing notes. 

“Yeah. But she’d feel better if I could just fucking tell her it’s off the table for me, too, I know that,” he said grimly. “I’m a shitty person.” Sondra looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“How so?”

“The minute I tell her, I’m not a regular guy anymore, I’m that guy,” he grumbled. 

“What guy?”

“You know,” he said, lowering his voice. “An impotent guy. Nobody wants that guy. Right now, she still thinks I’m cute,” he said. “She finds me attractive. What if that changes?”

“Is this about your ego?” she asked, looking bemused.

“Well, I mean, I’m a guy, I have an ego. I missed that since this,” he said, gesturing to his burned face. “People used to find me attractive and now they wince when they look at me. She still gives me the look, though.”

“The look?”

“Like I’m a sexual person,” he said. “Not an invalid.”

“You think she won’t find you attractive?” Sondra asked.

“Could you ask her? Maybe drop a hint?” he said.

“You know I can’t do that,” she told him. “That would break patient confidentiality laws.” He huffed out an exhale, shaking his head. 

“You’re sure?” he said.

“You’re supposed to be a federal law enforcement officer,” she told him dryly.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, sighing. “I was enjoying this, you know? It’s not just the shared no-sex thing, I, uh, I think we get along on a fundamental level.”

“So,” Sondra said, “if, say, a pill was invented that worked for you, would you want to stay in this relationship?” She looked at him with an alert expression.

“Yeah,” he said, “yeah.” He looked at his hands. “I would. I think--I think I might be in love, you know? Not just because of the newspaper questionnaire shit.” Brock chuckled.

“You did that New York Times quiz, huh?” Sondra said. He sat up a fraction, grinning. 

“Does she tell you about what we’ve been doing?” he said.

“You know I’m not allowed to tell you that,” she said. 

“But she’s mentioned it?”

“You’re relentless. You know I can’t tell you that.” 

“What if we came in together?” he said. “Couples’ therapy?”

“You’d need to get Darcy to agree to that,” Sondra said, giving him another of those bemused expressions.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.” If he asked her, she might say yes. She was pretty game and it might help him really talk about his injuries. That was difficult to do; he caught himself deflecting and minimizing whenever people asked. 

“I could technically recommend some books about intimacy,” she offered. “Send you off with a list?”

“Yeah, I want that,” he said. “She wants to have dinner tonight.”

  
  
  


Darcy was making dinner when he arrived. “We’re staying in?” he said, pleased. He’d been imagining that they’d go out and he’d have to wait until they got home to tell her.

“Thor and Jane went to the movies,” Darcy said. She looked oddly nervous.

“I got some books on the way here. Sondra recommended them,” Brock told her, setting them on the table. He followed her into the kitchen. She was frowning into a pan, so he rubbed her shoulders. “A whole book on kissing. What’s bugging you, sweetheart?” 

“A book on kissing?” Darcy said. She brightened. 

“Yeah,” he said. “What do you say to a lot of practicing, huh? I haven’t thought this much about kissing since I was about twelve.” Brock grinned. He leaned forward to kiss the top of her head. She smelled pleasantly of shampoo and some warm, clean perfume. He inhaled and settled his arms around her waist, squeezing her gently.

“Hey, I’m cooking mushrooms here,” Darcy said. “Go read your books.”

“I’ll read ‘em to you,” he said, kissing her cheek. He got the kissing book and came back to slide one arm around her. “Miss me yet?”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

“Did you know,” Brock said, flipping open a page, “that men who kissed their wives and girlfriends every morning lived five years longer than men who didn’t? So, you’re really keeping me alive, sweetheart.”

“But we’re not together every morning,” Darcy said. She seemed a little down, he thought. 

“That seems like a mistake,” he said, pushing her hair to one side so he could kiss her neck. “Why aren’t we?” Brock asked.

“Because you travel for work and need your own space?” she said. He shook his head.

“Nah. What if I stayed here more?”

“Be serious.”

“I am, baby. Why are you upset, huh? Put the spoon down, tell me what’s bugging you?” he said, coaxing the spoon away from her and turning the burner down. “That’ll keep. Talk to me?”

“Okay,” she said. He led her to the table.

“Did I do something?” he asked. “Somebody upset you at work?”

“No,” Darcy said, eyes locked on the table’s surface. She wouldn’t look at him.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling her into his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, then sighed.

“This makes it worse,” she said. Her voice was glum.

“What?”

“You’re all cuddling me,” she said with a kind of fierceness that made him laugh. 

“So?” he said.

“I, uh, was thinking I’d ask you this later,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.” She didn’t sound happy, he thought.

“Okay,” he said, feeling himself frown. “Ask me what?”

“Should we have an open relationship?” she said.

“What?” Brock said, tightening the arm around her waist involuntarily.

“Well, uh, so you can--” she began, looking miserable. Her eyes were focused somewhere around his clavicle.

“No,” he said. “Absolutely fucking not.” Darcy’s head jerked up. She looked startled. 

“You don’t want to thi--” she said.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he repeated. “And you know what?” He cupped her chin with a scarred hand and rubbed a cheekbone. Her eyes were wide.

“What?” she said.

“I’m not sharing you with anybody, you got that? I’m monogamous,” he said. “This is a two-person relationship, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Sharing me?” she said, sounding incredulous. “With who?” 

“Brad Roberts better not get any damn ideas,” he muttered. 

“Are you jealous?” she said. Her expression was surprised--and he thought, a little happier than before.

“Has it not occurred to you that you are wildly attractive?” he teased her. He raked his eyes over her face and then down to her breasts. He smirked. She grinned at him.

“Shut up,” she said. He leaned down to kiss her, but she pulled back suddenly. “My mushrooms!”

“I turned those down,” he said, pulling her closer. “You’re not getting away on me just yet.” 

“You can’t really be happy without--” she began, but he closed the distance between them. Cupping the back of her head, he kissed her gently. 

“I’m very happy,” Brock said, punctuating each word with it’s own kiss. She smiled under his lips. “Happiest motherfucker anyone could ever meet,” he said wryly.

“Okay,” she said, nuzzling him. Brock kissed her again. He felt Darcy relax in his lap, her body easing against his chest as the tension ebbed out of her shoulders. It was easy to deepen the kiss, more difficult to stop. He pulled back to look at her. Her expression was soft. 

“I’m crazy about you,” he said. She looped her arms around his neck and hugged him for a second.  “You need to know that,” he said, face pressed against her cheek. It wasn’t everything, but it was something.

“Okay. But I really should check the mushrooms,” she whispered in his ear. She detached herself from him with an audible sigh. She went into the kitchen and then stuck her head out. “How crazy about me?”

“Completely obsessed. What is it?” he asked.

“The mushrooms are, uh, blackened?” she said. He chuckled.

“I got this,” he said, pulling out his phone. He dialed a number.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“Pizza,” he mouthed, grinning. He could talk her into eating that in bed. He’d changed his mind on the subject. He’d never realized that eating in bed meant you got to be alone with your girl more. When he looked at her, she was beaming at him. 

  
  


“You want another piece?” he said teasingly, an hour later. They were camped out in her bed.

“I feel like you’re making fun of me, but it’s good pizza,” Darcy said, swiping the slice out of his hand. She stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed and caught himself unconsciously mimicking her action, half wagging his tongue at her. “Cut it out,” she said. 

“What?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You can’t keep your tongue to yourself. You’re always doing that,” Darcy sassed him. Impulsively, he leaned over and kissed her again, sucking on her top lip and curling his tongue against her mouth. “Oh,” she said, when he pulled back.

“Did I interrupt your pizza?” he joked.

“Ugh, stop,” she grumbled, eating hastily and avoiding his gaze. He looked at her. She glanced at him, then darted her eyes back at the TV. She finished the pizza slice in silence, then sighed.

“What is it?”

“If you really need to have sex,” Darcy began.

“For fucks sake, don’t start that again,” he said.

“Let me finish,” she said. Her voice was stubborn. He nodded. “If you really feel strongly, maybe there’s more things we could do together. I mean, I could have sex, technically.”

“But you’re—you don’t want to,” he said, feeling blindsided. What was up with her tonight?

“No, but if it will make you happy, then, I guess I could try,” she said in a doubtful tone. She was frowning at her pizza crust.

“In what fucking universe do you think I want you to lie there, miserable?” he said. “What’s got you so convinced I’m gonna bail to chase pussy anyway?” He said it jokingly, but she gave him a look. 

“You’re all sexual lately,” she said.

“Oh yeah?”

“You keep just  _ doing  _ things with your tongue and  _ looking _ at me.”

“You’re nice to look at. It’s a new hobby of mine, staring obsessively at my girlfriend and imagining her without clothes,” he said dryly. He hadn’t seen her naked yet.

“Did—did you want to see me without clothes?” she stuttered, blushing wildly. He grinned.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he said, wiping a little parmesan off her cheek. “But if you ever have the urge, find me immediately,” he joked. She gave him a look. “What?” 

“Go get that damn book on kissing,” Darcy said.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said, looking at him nervously and stuffing a little of the pizza crust in her mouth.

“Wait, what’s gotten into you?” he said, halting in his attempt to get out of bed and get the book. Instead, he looked at her. “You haven’t been nervous like this before.”

“I dunno,” she said. “I have feelings now. Feelings suck. Stop laughing.”

“You mean to tell me that we were making out and you hand kissed me without feelings?” he said. “I’m insulted. My heart is broken.”

“Shut up,” she said. “I was just trying stuff then. Experimentally. To see if I could do it.”

“And?” he said, looking at her.

“Well now I want to keep doing it, obviously. And that’s causing me stress about the future.” 

“Uh huh,” he said. “What if we see Sondra together?” 

“Like couples’ therapy?” she said.

“I was thinking that might be a good thing,” he said.

“Because your girlfriend is wildly jealous?” she said.

“Nope, actually, it’s me, I’m the real problem. I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out. Find out what a messed up guy I am behind the handsome, charming facade,” he said, smirking. He knew that made his scars slightly more menacing.

“Okay,” she said.

“You’ll go?”

“Yes, but”---Darcy crossed her arms--”I’m telling you now, you can’t just up and leave me, I’ll turn into a crazy person,” she said. He tilted his head at her and smiled.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” he said. “Not at all.”

 

He returned with the book and climbed in bed with her again. “What are you doing?” she said, giggling, as he pressed a kiss inside her elbow.

“There’s a whole chapter on secret kisses,” he said, looking up at her. 

“Secret places?”

“Or maybe kisses nobody knows about,” he said. “Should I come steal you during the workday?” He dropped kisses on the tips of each of her fingers, then each knuckle. “Give you a secret nobody knows about?”

“Uhhhhhhhh,” Darcy said, rolling her head back. “I want you to know that I loathe Loki Odinson with every fiber of my body right now.”

“Shhh, don’t say the name,” he said. He was looking at her palm.

“What is it?” Darcy asked. 

“I had a crazy aunt who used to read palms,” he said wryly.  “My aunt Teresa. I wonder what she’d say about your love line, baby?” He pressed his mouth into her palm, sucking gently at the fleshy part under her thumb. She made a little sound that seemed like a mixture of frustration and desire, then he felt her other hand rake through his hair. It sent a jolt of arousal through his body. He pushed the feeling back to concentrate on kissing her wrist and up the inside her arm slowly.

“Oh God,” Darcy said, as his mouth touched the inside of her elbow. He felt her shiver. There was a sudden, violent movement underneath the blankets.

“You okay?” he said, glancing up at her. 

“I’m fine,” she said. 

“Yeah? Then why are you kicking like a toddler, huh?” he said. He crossed one arm over her and rested his chin on her belly.

“I’m mad,” she wailed. “I’ve moved past the sads into feeling all pissed off again. Stupid Asgardian magic. Do you know how good that would normally feel? I remember, I just can’t get to it. I should be climbing into your pants right now. Argh!”

“That’s okay,” he said.

“No. Don’t let him off the hook. You should be mad. Why aren’t you mad?” she said. He sighed. Looked away.

“I got a secret, sweetheart,” Brock said.

“You do?” she said, craning her chin up. “What secret?”

“I can’t,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to worry about me running off with somebody because I’m crazy about you, but even if we reversed Loki’s magic”---he thumbed circles into her palm--”I couldn’t give you what you think I want.” He cleared his throat. “Fucking is, uh, the one part of my life that didn’t recover after the building fell on me.” He glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye. “I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to think I was less of a man.” He felt his jaw grind.

“You mean you--” Darcy began. She tried to sit up to talk to him, he thought.

“Can’t get it up?” he cracked bitterly.

“Honey, no. Come here,” she said softly, as Brock rolled over on his back, sighing. He closed his eyes for a second. He didn’t want to look at her. Eye contact was too vulnerable.

“Fucking sucks,” he muttered, feeling his mouth curl into a grimace. He was still frowning when she lowered her mouth and he felt it brush against his lips. Her hair trailed over his cheekbone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said, kissing his face gently.

“I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t cute,” he grumbled, pouting his lips for another kiss. He wasn’t expecting what happened next. Something soft hit his face. “What?” he said, as it hit him again. He blinked. “Are you hitting me with the bread pillow?” he asked, raising his arms defensively.

“I’m mad at you now!” she said. “How could you even think that? You know how cute I think you are!” The thumps with the bread pillow grew more emphatic and he started to laugh. “Don’t you laugh,” Darcy said, straddling him. That was new---he felt her settle over him and had to resist the automatic urge to reach for her aggressively.

“I see how it is,” he said, opening one eye. 

“What?” She was holding up the pillow.

“You’re all on top of me now,” he said slyly.

“Oh,” she said. “Shit.” She acted like she was going to scramble off him, but he seized her waist. 

“Nuh-uh,” he said. His thumbs stroked her hips. She looked at him. Her eyes were wide and a little sad-looking. 

“I wish you’d felt like you could tell me sooner,” she whispered, dropping the little loaf.

“Nobody knew but me and Sondra,” he said. “Nobody.”

“Oh.” Her voice was definitely sad now. He studied the pattern on her pajamas and then realized she was unbuttoning her top. 

“What are you doing?” he said.

“Rewarding your honesty with a little nakedness,” she said.

“I can live with that,” he said, tucking the bread pillow behind his head and watching her fingers slowly undo each wide button.

“You’re doing it again,” she told him. “Things with your freaking tongue.” She slipped her shirt off slowly.

“Jesus,” he said. “I feel like I should be doing this, sweetheart,” he said, mimicking a dog panting.

"Cut it out," she said.


	10. The Fear of Being Happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

“So, you’re communicating well?” Sondra asked. Brock and Darcy were sitting across from her. 

“Great,” Brock said, reaching over to hold her hand. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

“We fantastic, but…” she began.

“What? It’s okay, you can complain about my gym clothes,” Brock said. She laughed. He’d practically moved in with her when he was in town.

“No, no. Sometimes,” Darcy said, “I worry things are too good, like if I’m this happy, will something bad happen, like in a Greek tragedy? Like, I feel almost scared to be honest when people ask how we’re doing, because then, something awful will happen. I’m weird.” She gestured. Brock frowned.

“Really?” he said. “I been telling everybody how fantastic you are.”

“What you’re experiencing is something called cherophobia, the fear of being happy,” Sondra said. “It’s not officially recognized in the DSM, but those feelings are very common. Many people who’ve experienced negative repercussions when they’ve felt happy eventually start avoiding things that contribute to happiness, because they’re afraid.”

“Oooh,” Darcy said. “Explain that to me?”

“What happens is that you begin to anticipate negativity after good news or happy experiences,” Sondra said. “If you’ve been in a relationship where someone scolded you for being too happy or a parent scolding a child for being ebullient or silly. It may create a subconscious fear of being too happy.”

“Huh,” Darcy said, thinking. Brock was watching her closely.

“What can I do to help?” he said. Darcy smiled. She threaded her fingers through his again.

“He’s very into problem solving, he read all your intimacy books and took notes,” Darcy supplied. 

“What I think may work for you is cognitive behavioral therapy,” Sondra said. “I’m going to give you a handout.”

“We did that together when I first started therapy,” Brock said. “I think you’ll like it, sweetheart. We can practice together.” Sondra smiled. Brock caught her expression. “Am I doing too much?” he asked. 

“No,” Darcy said, laughing. “It’s very reassuring. I feel supported. We’re going to a couples’ retreat thing with Jane and Thor.”

“It’s a spa deal,” Brock said. “At a resort.”

 

  
***

“So, I’m supposed to brag about my wonderful boyfriend?” Darcy said, as they arrived at the resort. She had been reading up her CBT homework. 

“Yes,” Brock said. “You gotta talk about us like nothing bad’ll happen for a few minutes a day. Because nothing bad will happen, okay?”

“Okay,” Darcy said, smiling. She tucked herself under his arm at check-in. “What’s first, amazing boyfriend?”

“Couples massage?” he offered.

“Oooh,” Darcy said. “Fun.”

 

She was lying on a massage table with him a few feet away when he reached out. “Hey,” he said. 

“Yeah?” Darcy said. The place was oddly fancy. They’d covered her in jasmine-scented oil and the massage therapist was working on her calves.

“I’m glad we did this,” he said. She knew he’d been a little hesitant about someone seeing his scars. She’d let him decide whether or not they would participate.

“Good,” she said, squeezing his hand. 

They met the other couple for dinner. Jane was a bit buzzed and pink-cheeked. Thor grinned at them. It was a good meal. They were seated with another couple that Thor had befriended at some point while he and Jane were having their pedicures done. Brock was in a great mood and grew more pleased as Darcy bragged for her allotted five minutes of CBT about how charming and perfect he was. He kept smiling at her until she felt positively giddy.

“I take it you’re keeping her?” the husband said. 

“Oh, I’m not letting her get away from me,” Brock said. “Going to keep her under lock and key,” he joked. Darcy didn’t know what he meant, but she was happy. Stupidly happy. She’d joined Jane in the wine consumption contest, too. After dinner, they wandered out to the large porch. There were views of a wide, green lawn. “Hey, dance with me,” Brock said.

“Really?” Darcy said, laughing. “I’m horrible!”

“Don’t care,” he said cheerfully, slipping his arms around her waist.

“What am I supposed to be doing?” she asked.

“Well, I’m gonna lead,” he said.

“Okay, I’m not going to fight you on that,” she said, 

“And our hands go like this,” he said.

“Okay,” Darcy said. “God, I’m so smashed. By the way, I’m totally in looo--whoops!” She’d almost fallen. He caught her firmly.

“Totally what?” he said. “Maybe I just hold you, huh?”

“Better plan,” she said, putting her arms around his shoulders. They swayed back and forth. The air was slightly humid, but she didn’t want to go back inside. “Totally in love with you,” she whispered to him.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Me, too.”

“Do we have to go back in and talk to people?” she asked. 

“Nope,” he said. 

 

They snuck back upstairs to their room. On the elevator, a tipsy Darcy told some strangers how wonderful he was. “She’s had a lot to drink,” Brock said, laughing.

“But that doesn’t make it less true!” she insisted. “My therapist says I should brag about him more.”

“Yes,” a woman said politely. Brock couldn’t help but grin--people seemed more nonplussed by Darcy’s enthusiasm than his burns. He rubbed her back. 

“Absolutely,” Darcy said, nodding. She looked up at him. “And you’ve just got such nice hair.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said.

 

She was passed out next to him in bed when Brock decided to check his phone for messages. There was an email in his work inbox. Months before, he’d been forwarded the contact information for a specialist. A world-renowned specialist who could allegedly cure all his post-Triskelion injuries. _Dr. Cho would be available to see you around her speaking engagement in DC in August,_ the email said. _She would expect one hundred percent return to pre-2014 functionality, although all cases vary._

 

Next to him, Darcy snored softly. Brock looked at her, then his phone. He deleted the email. He was too happy to want anything Helen Cho could offer him.

 

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and kudos! I really loved writing this story!


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